In the Early Morning Hours
by darylsdiva1
Summary: Taken by Negan, Daryl has to find a reason to go on when his guilt spiral threatens to drag him under. His thoughts before facing his death included moments of closeness with the family he made after the Turn. In his hour of greatest need, one very special person who has always believed in him appears, giving him hope.
1. Chapter 1

Taken by Negan, Daryl has to find a reason to go on when his guilt spiral threatens to drag him under. His thoughts before facing his death included moments of closeness with the family he made after the Turn. In his hour of greatest need, one very special person who has always believed in him appears, giving him hope.

* * *

 _In the Early Morning Hours_

"You know you have to go."

"I'm staying."

"They'll be here soon... gotta go... you stay safe."

"Daryl, you know that they can't see me, right?"

Daryl Dixon shifted, the hard cold concrete beneath his ass giving no quarter, no comfort to his aching painful joints and bruises, the ghosts of wounds old and new that plagued him now waking or asleep.

"Cause you're not real." Daryl murmured, wiping his hand up over across his face in weary sadness.

"That doesn't mean I can't help you." Carol told him, her small cool hand briefly closing over his and then sliding up to push the blood crusted hair off his brow.

"Gonna give me a ghost knife s'I can slit that fucker's throat next time he drags me outa here?" he replied in a voice laced with venom.

"I'm not a ghost, Daryl."

" _You_ say..." Daryl sighed.

It was either that or he was losing his mind.

"I'm here because some part of you needs me to be here." Carol said gently, continuing her soothing caress smoothing his hair back.

"Just need to know you're safe." Daryl said stubbornly, disagreeing. "That you wasn't there..."

"I wasn't there." Carol reminded him, reassuring him, agreeing with him, leaning close to place a kiss to his forehead, the same as she'd done in the times before when he'd felt a failure. "It's all going to be all right."

Daryl turned his head as if the brush of her lips had seared white hot against his bruised and bloodied skin.

"Never gonna be right." he choked out the words as a pained sob, his mouth turned down in a rictus of grief as his hands rose to push her away from him.

The guilt was his other companion here at Sanctuary. The hollow sound of his friends' deaths rung out playing on an endless loop.

"You have to stay strong." Carol said, refusing to let him dismiss her, holding on tight to his shoulders. "For everyone who cares about you."

"Hate me." Daryl muttered, hair falling back over his tightly closed eyes, his lowered head moving back and forth in denial. "Killed him."

" _Negan_ killed him Daryl." Caryl said, shaking him, hard. "Look at me—Daryl— _look_ at me and _tell_ me you know that."

"He swung the bat." Daryl gritted out, his voice filled with shame, "I'm the one put the target on Glenn's head."

"You can't take that on."

"The fuck I don't." Daryl spit. "I stay down he'd still be breathin'."

"You don't know that—Negan's a monster just looking for any excuse—"

"N' I gave him one." Daryl whispered. "Jus' like I didn't find Blake... lost Hershel... lost Beth... all my fault..."

"So the universe revolves around you then?" Carol asked, her tone kind but skeptical. "All the evil in it starts and stops with Daryl Dixon's actions or inactions?"

Daryl glared up at her. She knew that wasn't what he meant. He was nothing, lower than the dirt.

"You're a good man." Carol said, and the honest belief in her words brought tears to his eyes as he shook his head back and forth again in denial.

"So you're just giving up." she said, this time with disbelief and perhaps a bit of fear for him.

"Ain't never gonna let me go." he croaked, hopeless, turtle rolling onto his back.

"We need you _... All_ of us. We need you to fight for us; to come _home_ to us." Carol pleaded, still kneeling next to him.

"Don't... jus' _go_... just _leave_ me... be better off without me... always fuckin' it up ...everything... nobody needs—."

" _I_ need you..." Carol interrupted his protest, sitting cross-legged so she could pull his head into her lap, her soft exhausted voice catching on a sob as she leaned over him, her hands holding his face, her mouth to his ear, _"Please, Daryl, please don't leave me here alone..."_

Daryl turned his head to look up at her, saw the tears that filled her luminous eyes, thought of how lost she had looked when they'd found her and Maggie at the Savior's compound.

 _Alone._

 _She needed him_.

"I love you."

He held still as she lowered her face; felt her sweet breath as she asked him again not to leave her; felt joy when she touched her lips to his.

* * *

"He's doin' it again." Simon grunted, watching the Boss's pet in his cage. Taking a sip of the bitter coffee turned cold he grimaced as he looked over at Dwight approaching with Sherry, bringing Daryl's meager breakfast.

The two stopped in front of the cell, joining Negan's right hand man to watch Daryl talk to some invisible companion as he often did in the early morning hours before his torture would begin again.

"Broke him." Dwight said dismissively, negligently closing one eye and aiming the crossbow that used to belong to the prisoner as if he would put a bolt through Daryl's heart, lowering it only when Simon scowled out a reprimand.

"No. Not yet," Sherry said, her tone bittersweet, watching Daryl touch his fingers to his cracked dry lips and smile.

* * *

It's going to be another tough journey for our heroes this year. I hope we get some indication that Caryl at least _thinks_ about one another while they are apart for another whole 1st half of a season. That she was the one who appeared most often in his pre-death flashes is our thin thread of hope to hang onto. I've tried to build on that here.

Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2: The Pomegranate

**Chapter Notes:**

While Daryl is held prisoner in Sanctuary, Carol has found a very different fate after leaving Alexandria. Will she find reasons in the Kingdom to leave her old life completely behind, including someone who has been with her since the beginning and in her heart almost as long?

 _Warning_ _: Carol and possible other._

* * *

 _The Pomegranate_

After she'd sent the man and his pomegranate and his god damned fucking _tiger_ on his way Carol sat and stared at the fire she'd built in the hearth of her new refuge and wondered _why_. Why hadn't she let him in, taken the fruit he'd offered so winsomely, accepted the heated invitation in his eyes and welcomed him into her bed?

It wasn't as if she was unfamiliar with the idea of taking comfort in the arms of a stranger, seeking solace in the bliss of ignorance and the glory of uncomplicated attraction. He at least seemed to understand that the simpering sweet affect she'd been fronting was _her_ crown and dreads, the cloak she wore to fake it till she could make it, not in any way who or what she really was: a goddess of Death.

He wanted to _save_ her, just like he'd done with the tiger, knowing her powers of destruction from the cache of Savior's weapons she'd carried, seeing past her stripes and appreciating the sleek predator she was inside. He wanted to fuck her and made no bones about it, with no halting awkwardness, no ambiguous looks of unspoken longing, no crushing embraces only after near death experiences or self-imposed guilt so thick and overpowering he couldn't see her standing right next to him, _loving him_...

 _Daryl..._

She wouldn't... _couldn't_ give the king her whole heart, but she knew he could wear her down with kindness and understanding and then she would give him what she could in return. She was like a flower that had somehow grown between the cracks in the pavement of a parking lot, all the stronger for pushing through, but seared and brittle, its parched beauty wilting but for a few drops of rain. Back in Alexandria it hadn't been enough, the slow steady care lavished on her by a man she didn't love, a false spring, and in the end she'd known that it would _never_ be enough. He would never really know her but the only man who _could_ wasn't capable of giving her what she needed from _him..._

 _Daryl..._

Leaving, moving on, isolating herself from everyone had seemed the only option then. Ezekiel had built on Morgan's interference in saving her, giving her an alternative, this house, to be a part of, but not inside his Kingdom's walls. She had fences around her graveyard home—a more appropriate metaphor couldn't be had—she thought wryly. There were so many dead always clawing at the edges of her mind. Some she had only witnessed, Amy, Ed, Jim, Jacqui, _Sophia_... Patricia, Jimmy, T-Dog, Lori, Merle, Andrea, Bob, and Ty. Others had been her fault for not acting quickly enough, or too quickly, Randall, Ryan, Karen, David, Mika, Lizzie, Beth, Sam... Then there were others for whom she had been the instrument of death, the vengeful goddess exacting punishment for the sin of harming or threatening those she loved: Terminus, the Wolves, Paula and the Saviors at the abattoir, and again on the road.

Maybe here, in this peaceable Kingdom she could just _stop._ Give in. Forget the past. Forget _him_.

 _Daryl..._

There were no promises between her and anyone else, no declarations of undying love had ever been made, no touches more than those shared by fond siblings had ever been exchanged. Why shouldn't she accept what boon the King was granting the fair maiden: the pleasure of his company, the rewards of his regard, and the power of being desired as a woman? Why wait for something that will never come, tasting the bitter rind of rejection, when the seeds within the fruit being offered were so very sweet?

* * *

 **Chapter End Notes:**

Possible S7 Spoilers: After watching 7:2, I'm sorry to say I am very much afraid that this is what they have been setting up since the second ½ of S5 when Daryl & Carol wouldn't even speak for 15 episodes. The affair with Tobin showed that she was a sexually desirable woman and the whole Morgan debacle was to get her out of Alexandria and into comic Michonne's romantic arc with Ezekiel in the Kingdom.

I'm trying to be happy that MMB has a great story line & a sexy new co-star, but I am _very_ bitter after putting 6 years into the hope of Caryl.

Thanks for reading. Sorry it was such a bummer, but that's what I am feeling right now. She's still thinking of Daryl in this story, but doesn't really believe that they will ever have a chance to be together and now here is a man who desires her and really seems to "get" her even without knowing her secrets. That would be hard to turn away from.


	3. Chapter 3: Field Trip

Apologies if you came to read this earlier & found Chapter 1 posted instead! Here is the correct new chapter.

Well, I thought I was done with this one, but it keeps writing itself in my head so I'll keep writing it down & posting it. Thanks to anyone who is still reading it.

Back to Daryl.

* * *

 _Field Trip_

"Rise and shine motherfucker—we're goin' on a field trip!"

The jovial loud voice pierced through the mind numbed fog Daryl had been hovering inside, his brain trying its best to keep him from feeling the searing pain from the latest round of "lessons" that had been given to him that morning.

"You hear what I said, boy? Get your ass into the position!" the voice barked as the door of his cell whined as it opened, slamming with a sharp loud bang into the bars.

Daryl saw the boots next; their polished shine underneath the blood dripping on them from the wire wrapped bat above them was incongruous enough to make him grunt out a half crazed laugh before his head was roughly jerked up by his grease tangled mane to look into the face of this new evil... but it shifted... back and forth between that of the man who had terrorized and brutally murdered two of his new family into the one who had done the same to his _first_ family...

"I swear to fucking Christ if you don't get up and on your knees Lucille is ready and willing to get acquainted with the skull of whichever of those people in Alexandria means the most to you." Negan said, leaning close, quietly sincere. Releasing his punishing grip on Daryl's hair he stepped back and waited.

Slowly, painfully, Daryl rose into a sitting position, pushing himself up with his left arm, the right still weakened from the bullet he'd taken to the shoulder, the damage from his adrenaline sourced attack in the line-up adding to his misery. The blows to his back and buttocks from the daily beatings slowed him, but perversely he was used to that kind of pain and better able to move through it than his captors knew.

"She got a name?" Negan asked, falsely solicitous as Daryl moved into the required kneeling position, his head down, hands clenched in fists.

Daryl fought himself not to react.

"Because when a man can endure _that much pain_ , usually means he got something he loves keeping him going—some _one_ special he wants to get home to, some little _gal_ he's tryin' to protect—maybe that little senorita I met on the road?" Negan prodded. "Nah—she was with Red, wasn't she—you could tell how she looked at him with the heart eyes when..." he grinned, chuckling "well, _you_ know when..."

Again Daryl refused to be baited.

"Now that fine ebony princess, she's with old Rick, and the little sick one, Maggie, was with Lucille's other friend—the one _you_ made me introduce her to—so who else did we have? Oh yeah, the pretty one in the fatigues. What was her name? Pasha? Tasha?"

"Sasha." Dwight's voice came from behind Negan.

"That's right, _Sasha._ We'll have to look her up today." Negan said thoughtfully.

Daryl couldn't stop the grimace and huff of air that came unbidden at the threat and the surprise that they were heading to Alexandria for their "field trip." Had it already been a week? Had he been in this hell hole seven days?

"I know. I'm a day early." Negan shook his head in mock self-derision, "But catching people out is a whole hell of a lot of fun!" he giggled.

The fucker actually god damned _giggled._

Daryl felt the panic start to run in circles around the ragged edges of his control, looking for a way out.

"Well, whoever is your nearest and dearest is sure gonna be happy to see you alive and... well... not so _well,_ but that's more your fault than mine, now isn't it, Daryl?" Negan chided. "You do continue to resist my attempts to welcome you into the fold." He sighed and walked a slow circle around Daryl's kneeling form. "Now I admire your spirit. I do, but there comes a point where if it doesn't serve me, then what the fuck use _are_ you?"

Daryl tried to slow his breathing, taking deeper breaths, biting the inside of his lower lip until it bled. He flinched when he felt a hand touch his back, confused because Negan had returned to face him until the hand began small smoothing circles.

" _We're going to get through this."_ Carol whispered softly, her lips at his ear, her hand gentle on his shoulder. _"We will. We will beat him."_

That was his greatest fear: that Carol would try and free him by going after Negan and his men. She'd been a one woman army at Terminus, had saved Alexandria from the Wolves almost single-handedly as well, why wouldn't she think she could take on the Saviors?

"Ain't nobody back there." Daryl croaked.

"What's that?" Negan asked, leaning close. "I couldn't quite hear you, son."

"Dirty redneck white trash... like shit off they boots... ain't got nobody cares 'bout me like that." He muttered, stringing things he'd been taught, things he'd been told by his daddy, by Merle: what he believed about the man he'd been before the Turn, before _her..._

Carol's shade laid her body over his back as if she could protect him from a blow, her lips pressing to his nape, her arms around his torso.

"Look down on you do they?" Negan asked, his interest piqued. He made an odd sound, sucking on his teeth, thinking, and sighed. "Think you're good enough to scout and hunt for them, but not to lay down with one of their women? Well, fuck _that shit!"_ indignant on Daryl's behalf.

"Get him up." He ordered, pointing at Daryl with Lucille and realizing that she was still dripping with blood from this morning's executions, he pulled out a rag and started lovingly cleaning the bat.

"They do seem to be putting on airs, living inside those walls in their Mcmansions, don't they Dwight?"

"Yes sir, they do." Dwight agreed readily, hauling Daryl to his feet.

"We get there, you're gonna point out which of those snoot in the air ladies you fancy and I'm going to do you a solid—bring her along home with us and let you court her after you join us." Negan promised.

Daryl swayed, struggling to stay upright, dizzy, feeling Carol still wrapped around him like a cocoon of caring, a phantom echo of the times he'd held her close, comforting her, protecting her...

"Don't." he said flatly, his voice an angry growl, "Don't fancy none a' _them_ women."

"Oh? Well, if you swing the other way we can cut you a bull outa the herd just as easily. Maybe that pretty curly headed one who cried so nice? Or maybe a calf? How about the boy? Carl? Come on now, I'm willing to _work_ with you, Daryl." Negan said, his tone so reasonable as to be almost _kind_.

" _Fuck you."_ Daryl seethed, furious at the implication he could desire a child in that way.

Dwight immediately punched Daryl hard in the side of the head, bloodying his ear and knocking him back to the ground where he curled into a fetal position.

"He talks to someone—like they's in there with him—in the mornings and sometimes after lights out at night. Couple of us heard him." Dwight offered helpfully.

"Oh yeah? Why's this the first I've heard of it?" Negan asked, quick suspicion marring his brow and narrowing his eyes. "That there's important shit."

"Thought he was just losing it—you know, out of his head." Dwight shrugged apologetically, watching nervously as Negan fingered Lucille.

"He say a name—who he's been nattering on to?" Negan asked, a gleam in his eyes.

"I didn't hear a name, but like I said, couple of us heard him. Simon and Sherry might know." Dwight told him eagerly.

Negan crouched beside Daryl, leaning forward with his weight supported by Lucille which he planted on the floor right by Daryl's face.

"You been holding out on me, boy?" He admonished. "That's not going to go well for anybody, and you _know_ that about me."

Daryl wracked his brain, trying to remember if at any time he'd said Carol's name since he'd come to this place. He'd never said it to her face before, he hoped he hadn't started; knew he couldn't now, feeling her warmth spooned behind him reassuringly.

" _Daryl."_ Carol said, _"Chupacabra..."_

"Merle." Daryl said, panting against the pain splitting his head. "Talk to him."

"Merle? That your redneck _boy_ friend?" Dwight snarked, landing several sharp kicks to Daryl's midsection. "Give it up asshole!"

" _B-brother."_ Daryl ground out, barely able to speak through the agony of more damage inflicted on top of already cracked ribs.

"That works too." Negan said, pleased to discover a possible chink in Daryl's armor. Family was always a weak point. Then he frowned, watching Daryl's eyes roll back and his body go slack.

"God damn it Dwight, you need a lighter touch when they're already so fucked up." Negan barked. "Get Doc Carson in here to check on him and then have him trussed and ready for transport by 0700 hours."

As he faded into unconsciousness, Daryl let himself feel satisfaction at his ruse, thanking the brother he had lost so many months and even more miles away at another madman's hands.

He wasn't about to lose Carol again, hoping she'd be safely hidden from Negan's notice by being with the flannel giant she'd taken up with, for the first time glad at how she'd distanced herself these last months, hoping it would be enough to protect her, all the while dreading yet longing to see her soon.

* * *

 _Sorry I have been so down about Caryl. I still ship it, I do, but I'm so tired of being jerked around by the show it just gets to me sometimes. There is so much more to the ship than whether or not they ever go canon, and my joy in writing & reading about them shouldn't have to suffer because Gimple & Co, have their heads up their asses._

 _Caryl on!_


	4. Chapter 4: runaway

Back to the Kingdom. Jerry sings, Zeke goes fishing with Morgan, and Carol bakes bread.

Thanks for letting me have my therapy writing this. It's helping.

* * *

 _Runaway_

"So how's our little runaway today?" Ezekiel asked Morgan, and before he could answer the strains of "Runaway" by Del Shannon could be heard from a mellow sounding guitar at the side of the stage.

Morgan leaned on his staff and side-eyed the musician.

"My clever minstrel has a song for every occasion." Ezekiel chuckled.

"Indeed!" Jerry said merrily and began to sing along in a pretty good imitation of the falsetto on the original recording:

 _I'm a-walkin' in the rain_ _  
_ _Tears are fallin' and I feel the pain_ _  
_ _Wishin' you were here by me_ _  
_ _To end this misery_

 _I wonder  
_ _I wah-wah-wah-wah-wonder  
_ _Why  
_ _Why, why, why, why, why  
_ _She ran away_

 _And I wonder_ _  
_ _Where she will stay_ _  
_ _My little runaway_ _  
_ _A-run, run, run, run, runaway_

Ezekiel grinned and clapped appreciatively and Shiva added a loud huff, stretching her head up in a request to her master to have her ears scratched, which he obliged.

Jerry and the guitarist both nodded in thanks and then moved off the stage to give the King and his guest some privacy.

"You did take some supplies out to Lady Carol did you not?" Ezekiel pressed Morgan, trying to sound nonchalant, gesturing to the stool next to him, indicating that this was to be a formal audience.

Morgan sighed, but did as he was bidden.

"She wanted to try baking bread." Morgan said, resting his staff across his knees. "House must've belonged to a gourmet cook—it has an Aga that can be wood fired—so she thought she'd try it out. She likes to bake."

"Indeed. I hadn't considered that she might be so interested in the domestic arts." the King mused, his mind almost visibly working.

"That the point of this here fishing expedition then?" Morgan asked with an almost bored frown. "To find out more about Carol?"

"I only wish to help her." Ezekiel said with portentous sympathy, "Her heart is heavy and filled with sadness."

"She's had her losses...we all have..." Morgan allowed, "Best leave her be so she can deal with them as she sees fit."

"I have given her a place of safety and respite in my kingdom."

"And why is that, Zeke? Morgan asked, one suspicious eyebrow raised, "What's in it for you?"

"Why did you help her on the road? You killed to protect her—what does she mean to you?"

"Are you asking if we were _involved_ back... back where we came from?"

Ezekiel frowned stubbornly—it was exactly what he wanted to know but wouldn't lower himself to voice it.

"She's a friend who was in trouble—part of which I caused—we got separated on a run and she had to take on a group of Saviors by herself. One got away and tracked her, was about to take her out when I found them. That's when your men showed up."

"Did she have many friends back where you came from?"

"Everyone _loved_ Carol. She saved all our lives more than once, at great cost to herself... I'd just started to understand _how_ great before we went on the run."

"There was no supply run was there—or rather _she_ _was running,_ just like she tried to do from here when I stopped her?" Ezekiel guessed astutely. "You said everyone loved her, but was there some _one_ in particular she was running from? Was someone hurting her?"

"Not in the way you mean." Morgan shook his head. "You want to know more you'll have to ask her."

"I'm asking _you_. I want to get to know her better, to help her heal but not overstep."

"You want to get to _know_ her better?" Morgan chuckled, "Don't bullshit me, man."

The King shifted uncomfortably on his throne.

"This place is an escape—for both of us—it's so far removed from the painful reality we've been living with since the world fell apart that it doesn't seem real. She's good at hiding in plain sight and you saw through it, good for you. But don't expect you can get to know her deepest darkest places in a couple of weeks so she's all healed up and ready to be your newest consort. She's _damaged,_ man, like we're all damaged, but in her it's bone deep. I think there's only one person she could ever really open up to and she shoved him away with both hands..."

" _Him?"_ Ezekiel blurted and leaned forward. "Some _other_ knight errant?"

Shiva, ever responsive to his moods gave a soft purring growl, raising her head in curiosity.

Looking disgusted with himself for saying too much Morgan scowled and looked over to the back of the theater where Jerry and the guitar payer chatted amiably. After a few beats he looked back at Ezekiel and licked his lips, readying himself for a long speech.

"Look, I see the way you look at her, like... like she's the most fascinating puzzle you ever tried to piece together. She's one of the best fighters I've ever seen, she's strategic, smart and deadly with a knife and a gun... she's also a beautiful woman who's in a hell of a lot of pain. She ran away from everyone she loves because she can't kill for them any more—her very words—so you need to back off and give her what she needs: the time to heal and come to terms with how she fits into this world."

"And after that?" Ezekiel asked.

"After that, well, you can take your shot, but know this for certain, if he's still alive, he _will_ find her."

"And I thought _you_ were her white knight."

"You mistake me—she's no damsel in distress—she's the one who knocks, the one who chooses. But she couldn't take the killing any more. I just happened to be there when she hit bottom. He didn't know she ran; she hid it from him; planned it that way."

"So she was running from him... because she _loves_ him..." Ezekiel huffed out a sigh and sat back in his throne, his hand going to his chin broodingly.

"What she needs more than anything now is to feel _safe_. No pressure, no worries. She needs friendship and support, not another meaningless escape..." Morgan warned, stopping himself again before he let slip his misgivings about how she'd taken up with the man from Alexandria and how little happiness that liaison had brought her.

"I have offered her the hand of friendship. If she wishes for more, it will be her decision." the King pronounced and then inclined his head and leaned forward, changing the subject. "Now tell us how your lessons with young Benjamin are progressing—has he been able to knock you on your ass yet?"

* * *

The sound of a steady rain on the roof of her little house had a comforting coziness and Carol smiled as she set the dishcloth over top of the large ceramic bowl to allow the bread dough to rise in the kitchen warmed by the oven, marveling at the fact that someone had saved the sour dough starter through everything that had happened since the Turn. This place really was like a fairy tale.

She thought of her not so well received attempts at baking back at the prison—biscuits made from expired Bisquick that were better used as slingshot ammunition—and unleavened lavash flatbread that was so chewy that Daryl used it as a plate/spoon combination shoveling her stew in as fast as he could...

So many of her happy memories featured him... she tried to think of the last one since they'd come to Alexandria... probably his reaction to her Suzy Homemaker ensemble... _ridiculous_... but after she'd donned that costume he'd felt lost to her...

Part of her wished they'd never followed Aaron, what if they'd found some other refuge?... or even if after Daryl had followed her that night at the church they'd never reunited with the others...

Too many what ifs, she thought, mentally giving herself a shake. It did no good to dwell on the past. It was over and done. Wasn't that what this place was supposed to be? A new start?

" _Whatever happened, happened. We can start over... with each other..."_

His shy gravelly voice so adamant that she not give up, that she given them another chance.

" _When I said we can start over it's 'cause we gotta._ _Fuck_ _the way it was."_

The tears that filled her eyes made her angry. The futility, the misery of feeling sadness from the knowledge that she would probably never see him again—never see _any_ of the people who had become her family—hurt deep in her chest. Never see Judith take her first steps, never see Glenn hold his and Maggie's child, never see Rick and Michonne try to cope with a teenager in the throes of puppy love... not be there to comfort Tara when she was told about Denise, or see how Rosita rebounded from Abraham and Sasha's new romance or watch _Daryl_ watch in silent bemusement as Aaron and Eric greeted each other after a run with a passionate embrace...

"You can't have both." Wiping at her eyes and sniffing back the tears she mentally chided herself. "You can't be with them and not be willing to take lives to defend them. You're better off here. _Alone._ It's why you left."

It was also why she'd kept Ezekiel at arms' length, though he'd patiently pressed for more since that first night he'd shown up at her door; _catch a tiger by the toe..._

If the King pushed any harder she'd run.

She didn't want to care about _anyone else._

Her heart was already full to overflowing.

That must be why it hurt so dreadfully.

It couldn't be that it was breaking, wondering if they were all safe; if _he_ was safe.

His face at the gravesite haunted her. She couldn't face losing him too.

But not knowing was killing her.

* * *

Song credit: "Runaway" written by Del Shannon and Max Crook, 1961. wiki/Del_Shannon:Runaway


	5. Chapter 5: Homecoming

_Negan pays his first visit to Alexandria, bringing Daryl as his prisoner._

 _Warning: Possible spoilers for 7:4; minor character death._

 _Negan uses misogynistic and basically disgusting language, so be forewarned._

* * *

 _Homecoming_

He'd expected it to look different somehow.

But it didn't.

As the motorcade rolled up to the gates of Alexandria all was as it had been when Daryl had left fourteen days before on his reckless revenge fueled mission to find Dwight and make him pay for Denise's death, the reason Glenn had even been out of the safety of these walls in the first place.

Negan jumped nimbly out of the cab of the big Dodge Ram he'd been driving and used the monstrous tool he called Lucille to knock on the door, a personification of every big bad wolf, of every monster seeking entrance to the inner sanctum in every dark fairy tale ever written.

" _Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!"_

A stoic faced Eugene rolled the gate back and Negan raised his arm ordering the trucks to thunder through.

In his prison pajama whites, Daryl was dragged from the bed of Negan's pick up where he'd been chained for the ride from Sanctuary. The hood he'd been wearing since they'd left there had been removed when they arrived at the gates so he could see the welcome his people gave their new boss; how they would defer and kow-tow to his authority; how even Rick would ask _how high_ when the order came to jump.

The chain attached to the collar around his neck was pulled taut as Dwight handed the end of it to Negan, making Daryl stumble forward, throwing his hands, which had been bound in front of him, out to try and break his fall.

"Take it easy now, son!" Negan said, pulling up sharply to arrest Daryl's forward momentum, "You'll get to see everybody soon enough—though I do imagine you're pretty anxious to see that brother of yours—come on along then."

Negan gave the chain a jerk, pulling Daryl forward. Looking through his dirty curtain of hair Daryl saw Rick, Michonne and Aaron come running up to meet the convoy that had arrived a day early.

"Good morning!" Negan said jovially, leading Daryl forward, "As you can see we are here for our first tribute and inspection tour of your lovely community. My boy Daryl here will act as a visual aid for today's lesson the first. Whenever I arrive, you, as my subjects, will _assume the position_."

Before Daryl could even consider whether defiance or obedience was best, the back of his knees were hit from behind and he fell forward into a kneeling position. Dwight had used the crossbow to blindside him into obeying.

" _Stay down."_ Carol said with quiet command.

Daryl blew out a heavy breath, at first unsure if she was really there or if it was her shade. When he felt her hand on his back he knew it was the latter. She wouldn't be so foolish as to touch him if she was really there.

"See? Not so hard. We've been through this before so you know the consequences of defiance, right Daryl?" Negan chuckled, resting Lucille on Daryl's right shoulder. "Now let's see you all take the lesson and _assume the fucking position_!"

Slowly, one by one, each of the citizens of Alexandria standing in front of the Saviors went to their knees.

"Don't be eye-balling me, boy." Negan bit out to Eugene who had murder in his eyes as he stared up at him darkly.

"Eyes on the ground!" Simon yelled, clubbing Eugene in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle just hard enough to hurt, but not incapacitate him.

Everyone else bristled at the blow, but they had already learned a horrifying lesson about what reacting to the Saviors' violence would bring them.

"That's better." Negan said with a cool smile, walking over to Eugene and leaning down close to his ear, "But I do enjoy that you have the balls to rock a mullet in the Apocalypse—party in the _back!_ " he crowed and then stood and looked over at Grimes, "So what's mullet man's name, Rick?"

"Eugene." Rick said, keeping his tone carefully modulated, but his jaw was tensed, his eyes hard.

"That's right! _Eu_ -gene. I like it. Goes with the hair. While Rick assembles the rest of the fine citizens of this place in that church for a town meeting, you're going to be my guide today, _Eu_ -gene. Let's get on over to the pantry and start loading up my half of your food."

Confused, Eugene didn't at first move.

"Get your fat butt off the ground, Eugene, I ain't telling you again." Negan ordered.

Eugene scrambled up, exchanging a brief terrified look with Rick before getting a hold of himself.

"Oh and Rick—you want to get Daryl's family out here first? I think he should have a little visitation time while we're here." Negan said nonchalantly, but watching Rick closely for his reaction.

Rick and Michonne exchanged a quick look then looked at Daryl; the barely perceptible shake of Daryl's head back and forth as he stared at the ground told them what he wanted.

"Daryl doesn't have any family left." Rick said, frowning, knowing in his heart it wasn't true, knowing Daryl was his brother, that he considered them all his family now, but would never want to endanger them by exposing that fact to Negan.

"I was told he had a brother." Negan said, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side.

"Merle—he—he _died_." Rick told him, frowning.

"Shit—since Daryl's been with me?" Negan looked nonplussed. _"Fucking A..."_

"No. Over a year ago." Rick admitted, unsure if that would hurt or help Daryl.

"You been talkin' to your _dead_ brother, motherfucker?" Negan made a derisive noise, looking down at Daryl, "Well shit, that's just _pathetic_." he sighed and looked back to Rick.

"Well, how about his woman? Promised this old boy that we'd give him some time with her too." he patted Daryl on the shoulder amiably and gave Rick his sincerest look.

Daryl flicked his eyes to Rick who saw the stark fear in them before Daryl had to look down again so Negan wouldn't see it as well.

"Long as I've known him Daryl's never had a woman." Rick said, frowning, "Don't know about before, but, well, here he mostly keeps to himself. He was a recruiter, out on the bike, outside the walls most of the time."

"Recruiter?" Negan looked all around him, taking in the neat homes and streets, "You fucking idiots actually went out _looking_ for people to let into this place? You are dumber than a box of cocks."

Michonne's face fell into a look of disgust at his crudeness which she couldn't fully suppress, her lip curling like she was trying not to spit.

"You got something to say there, pretty?" Negan said, pointing Lucille at her and yanking hard on the chain holding Daryl, making him gasp and choke.

"No." Michonne said distinctly, blanking her features.

"No comment? No gossip girl shit about who Daryl was crushing on?" He came closer, dragging Daryl along with him until he was in front of her. "Look at me, girl. Come on now, give me _something._ Pussy or dick, doesn't matter. Who does _Daryl_ want to get _with_?"

"There's no one here like that." Michonne said flatly, maintaining eye contact with him.

Negan stared her down, but when she didn't falter he sighed and raised Lucille up over his shoulder.

"Well, you really _are_ a sad _sorry_ motherfucker, Daryl." he shook his head and jangled the chain. "Aren't you?"

" _Stay down,"_ the Carol in his head repeated.

Daryl kept his head down.

" _Aren't you?"_ Negan bellowed, demanding a response.

"I am." Daryl croaked. "...a sad _sorry_ motherfucker."

"That's right." Negan sounded satisfied. "Now let's go see what kind of goodies Alexandria has for me. Lead on Eugene."

" _You did that just right."_ Carol said, her voice warm with soothing praise. _"Let him think he's won. You survived your daddy, you survived dead people trying to eat you, you survived losing your brother and our home; you survived cannibals and falling off a bridge and getting shot. This asshole will_ _not_ _break you."_

Daryl felt her hand at his shoulder, squeezing hard as he shuffled behind Negan.

"Oh my God, is that _Daryl_?" a woman's voice cried out before it was shushed, and Daryl felt shame but fought it, remembering Carol's words to him; what she'd been telling him and showing him since the quarry, that she trusted him, believed in him.

" _You're every bit as good as them, every bit."_

Daryl took deep slow breaths concentrating on her voice in his head, trying to buy the lie, burying the pain, the humiliation of having his degradation seen by everyone in Alexandria... but he couldn't escape the shame that they knew that Glenn's death had been his fault...

"Whose brilliant idea was to put the fat broad in charge of the pantry?" Negan snarked and Daryl heard the sharp intake of breath from Olivia along with an indignant huff from Eugene.

Dwight and the rest of the men laughed along but Daryl gritted his teeth and kept his head down.

"I'm feeling parched, Pantry Lady; you go and fetch me a refreshing beverage while my men take a little inventory of your goods... and get my _pet here_ a bowl of water while you're at it."

Olivia stood there with her mouth open, frozen in fear, staring at Lucille and then at Daryl.

Eugene moved closer and gently put his hand on her elbow and she startled, her head whipping around to him in horror until she realized who it was.

"I'll give you a hand with some sweet tea, Ms. Olivia." he said in a calming tone.

"And bring yourselves a glass too." Negan said magnanimously, taking a seat at one of the café tables set up in front of the pantry, "I hate to drink alone." he added, chuckling at his show beneficence. "They keep this up I might not have to kill anybody today." he said to Daryl who stood beside the chair.

"Mr. Negan?"

Simon and two of the other men blocked the new arrival from coming within ten feet of their boss.

Daryl chanced a glance up to make sure it was who he thought it was.

 _Shit._

Spencer Monroe.

A naïve kid at best; a fool at worst, he had none of the sense of either of his late parents. His older brother had already died ugly and it looked like he was tempting the same fate. It was a lesson in the damage that could be done to character with over indulgence and sheltered upbringing. When it came time to face the realities of the world as it was now, neither of Deanna and Reg's sons were worth a damn.

"I need to talk to you." Spencer persisted. "There are things you should know about this place—about Grimes and his people."

" _His_ people?" Negan sounded intrigued.

"They've only been here a couple of months—came in and everything went to hell. I lost my whole family because of them." Spencer said, bitterness drenching every word.

"Let him through, boys. " Negan waved nonchalantly and pointed to the other chair at the table. "Have a seat, son."

Spencer came forward eagerly, but was stopped and searched roughly by two of Negan's goons first. When they assured themselves that he wasn't carrying any weapons beyond the knife already in plain view at his belt, which they took from him and laid on the table in front of Negan, they let him pass. Looking down at Daryl with contempt, he pulled out the chair beside Negan and made himself comfortable.

"So you are not a fan of Mr. Rick Grimes it would seem."

"My mother ran this place since the Turn. We were safe, had everything we needed. Then the recruiters brought Grimes and his gang in."

"His _gang_?" Negan scoffed.

"Killers, all of them, even the women and the kid." Spencer said, warming to his story, "You think you know how many of _your_ people have they killed? You have _no_ idea."

Daryl couldn't help it, he growled.

"And what would you require for this information?" Negan asked, ignoring Daryl except to give a quick jerk to his chain, the way you'd correct an uncooperative cur.

"By rights I should be in charge here." Spencer asserted, "I can tell you who's loyal and who isn't-"

One second his knife was on the table and the next it was imbedded in Spencer's abdomen and Negan was laying open his belly, wet bloody intestines sliding out the rough incision to flop down over his lap.

"I don't think you have the _guts_ to lead, Mr. Monroe." Negan said dismissively, laying the knife back on the table and picking up a napkin to wipe off the small amount of blood that he had gotten on his hand.

Spencer tried unsuccessfully to push his insides _back_ inside, the shock masking the pain he by all rights should've been feeling. He looked up at Negan in disbelief and then blood bubbled up out of his mouth before he fell forward, twitching, his head slamming against the table.

"Let alone the ability to be _loyal_." Negan added distastefully after Spencer's body finally stopped its death throes, the foul smell of excrement and urine darkly pungent..

Olivia screamed and dropped the tray of glasses of tea she'd been returning with when she saw the horrific scene at the table.

"Well now shit, Spencer—see what you gone and done?" Negan said, looking at the dead man in disgust, shaking his head, "Now I'm gonna have to wait even longer to cool my parched throat."

Daryl watched numbly as the blood pool started to drip off the edge of the table and onto the ground, the slow _slap slap slap_ as one thick drop after another hit the pavement echoing in his head, a muted reprise of the bat striking Glenn...

"Fuck—somebody take care of that, will you?" Negan sighed, sounding put upon.

Spencer's hands were twitching.

Dwight stepped up and grabbed the hair on the back of Spencer's head and then slammed Daryl's knife through Spencer's temple, stopping the reanimation process.

"Still _thirsty,_ Fat Chick." Negan called back over his shoulder testily. "And Lucille's startin' to get thirsty too, if you catch my drift, so _move_ your lard covered ass or else."

Olivia reappeared carrying a new tray with a pitcher and glasses which she brought to the table. She was biting down hard on her lower lip in a losing effort to stop crying. She had been in Alexandria from the beginning and had known Spencer and his family the longest of anyone there.

"Oh there now, look at those big fat tears!" Negan said with what sounded like sympathy as he looked at Olivia. "Com'ere, sit down now." He rose and pulled out a chair at the table right next to the corpse, motioning for Olivia to sit.

She did so, very reluctantly.

Stony faced, his jaw grinding, Eugene moved to stand behind her, but Simon blocked him and herded him back from the table with a raised Uzi, separating him from Olivia.

"Tell me true, sis, did you have a hankering for preppy little Spencer here?" Negan asked as he solicitously poured her a glass of the sweet tea and set it in front of her.

"He... he was just a friend." Olivia choked out, swallowing back her tears, trying not to look at the bloody reeking body next to her.

"Hell, it's the Apocalypse—even fat chicks should be able to get some—ain't that right, Daryl?" Negan jerked on Daryl's chain. "Shit, even Dwight, with his fucked up face gets laid on the regular back home at Sanctuary. And after all, you _owe_ me... you did just waste a whole god damn _tray_ of _my_ iced tea... so is it Daryl or Dwight?"

Olivia's mouth came open in shock and fear. Her eyes darted between the two men and Negan unsure if he was serious or if it was another cruel mockery.

"Nah—I'm just fuckin' with you, Liv." Negan chortled, "Dwight's my right hand and I've already tortured Daryl enough today." He laughed and pulled out his chair to join her, pouring himself some tea and taking a good long pull of it.

Olivia's hand shook so much she couldn't raise the glass to her lips, afraid she'd spill it and anger him.

"Now that's _damn_ fine sweet tea." Negan said, smacking his lips together in pleasure and leaning back in his chair to look through the open door of the pantry. "Got any cookies back there to go with it?"

Both Olivia and Eugene's eyes darted to Daryl which drew Negan's attention to him.

"What? You a _cookie_ monster, Dixon? You like?" he grinned, cocking his head at Daryl.

Daryl gritted his teeth, his stomach rolling at the reminder of Carol's specialty.

"We don't have any cookies anymore." Olivia said with a more pronounced sadness than the simple statement deserved, looking at Daryl sympathetically.

"Well now, that's a fucking shame. I do love poppin' open an Oreo and _licking the cream_ outa the center," amused at his own double entendre, he looked around at his men knowingly and they all joined in with lascivious chuckles. "What's the matter—you don't have anyone around here that _bakes_?"

Daryl visibly bristled, his breathing quickening, shoulders stiffening.

Olivia's eyes filled with tears, one spilling over as she quickly looked away from Daryl.

"There's a man... there's a _dead man in that chair_ and you're talking about _cookies._ " Eugene said loudly and with barely controlled incredulity, deliberately changing the subject.

Negan slowly turned his head to focus on Eugene, narrowing his gaze and licking his lips, like a cobra sensing its prey.

"You can join him if you like, Eugene." Negan said evenly, lifting Lucille and laying it on the table top just next to the edge of the congealing bloody puddle.

In the long tense silence that followed the church bells began ringing from the other end of the street, calling the townspeople to the meeting.

"Saved by the bell." Negan sighed and stood, raising the bat above his head and stretching. "Simon, you can stay here with Fat Olivia and you five to start loading the trucks. Dwight and the rest—Eugene will take us off to the meet and greet with the rest of the good citizens of Alexandria."

As Daryl was jerked forward, slogging through the pool of Spencer's blood on the pavement, he realized that Carol's voice, her presence inside his head was gone... just as she seemed to be missing from this place.

He was starting to fear that he had been visited by a ghost after all...

* * *

 _ **S7 SPOILER alert:** __Spoilers say that there will be no mention of Morgan & Carol's absence from Alexandria in Ep. 7:4 & that Daryl will probably have no dialogue in it either. It's 4B & 5B-6A all over again when they go an entire 8-16 episodes without talking to or about one another. Gimple expects the GA to still even care about Caryl? If I hadn't heard the 7:10 spoilers I'd be totally done & even then I'm not sure I trust them. Carol obviously becomes very important to Ezekiel & even after seeing her at Kingdom, Daryl still leaves. The show makes it hard to keep the faith, ya know?_

 _Caryl on._


	6. Chapter 6: Take a Giant Step

_Worn down by the King's charm offensive, Carol begins to feel more at home in the Kingdom, but a surprise visitor may have her looking back instead of forward._

 _Warning: Possible spoilers for S7._

* * *

Take a Giant Step

 _Though you've played at love and lost  
and sorrow's turned your heart to frost  
I will melt your heart again.  
Remember feeling as a child  
when you woke up and the morning smiled?  
It's time you felt like you did then._

 _There's no percentage in the past.  
It's time you learned to live at last.  
Come with me, leave yesterday behind  
and take a giant step outside your mind._

 _You stare at me in disbelief.  
You say for you there's no relief,  
but I swear I'll prove you wrong.  
Don't stay in your lonely room  
just staring back in silent gloom.  
That's not where you belong._

 _Come with me I'll take you where  
the taste of life is green  
and every day holds wonders to be seen._

 _Come with me, leave yesterday behind  
and take a giant step outside your mind._

The Monkees, 1966

* * *

"She's beautiful." Carol said with a sigh, running her hand down the sleek shoulder of the copper colored horse with the wide white blaze. It was the same one she'd ridden when Morgan had brought her here so she knew the animal was calm and gentle, but had some get up and go when it was asked of her.

"Penny's one of our finest." Ezekiel agreed, holding out the mare's lead to Carol. "She'll eat down the grass in your yard and your fence will keep her in. The garage is set up as a stall where she'll be safe at night from lurkers; my men will be along shortly with some grain, hay and sawdust from the mill for bedding."

"I don't need _a horse_ , Ezekiel." Carol gave him an exasperated half smile/half frown. He'd been bringing her ever more extravagant gifts since the first time he'd visited a little over four weeks ago, pomegranate in hand, but now he was just being well, _ridiculous._

" _Everyone_ in the Kingdom needs a horse, fair lady." Ezekiel assured her, spreading out his hands in a magnanimous gesture. "You may have need of a swift flight or... you may wish to join us on patrol..." he looked at her with his dark knowing eyes, challenging her, pushing her to engage.

She never came to town; her only contact with the community was the visits he made, sometimes accompanied by Shiva and/or Jerry and the ones made by Morgan under the guise of resupplying her. She didn't need much, setting snares to live catch rabbits that she housed in hutches made from scrap lumber and chicken wire she'd found. The three hens that had been an earlier gift from the King provided her with eggs daily. She'd already started a garden plot with seedlings and cuttings she scavenged on her explorations to the farms nearby, catching hell from both men when they'd realized she was out foraging on her own.

"You can't hide here forever, Carol." Ezekiel said gently, raising his free hand to her cheek to force her to look at him. "You have to let go of whatever's haunting you and rejoin the human race. _There's no percentage in letting the past keep you from having a present... a_ _future._ _.. with_ _me_ _."_

Carol's troubled eyes met his and her hand rose to cover his hand.

Richard, the King's right hand man, at the reins of the wagon bringing in the supplies for the horse, watched the intimate moment, stone faced. To his mind too much of Ezekiel's attention was focused on this one woman, this _stranger_ who did nothing to support the rest of them. At least Morgan went on runs and worked with the youngsters like Ben, training them to fight.

This grey-haired siren _stole_ from them, taking supplies and their leader's time and focus that would be better used to make plans for confronting Negan more directly. Supplying them with tainted meat was a start, but was still only a weak response to the terror the Saviors had rained down on them when they'd swept into the Kingdom half a year ago, leaving his brother's practically headless corpse lying in the town square as evidence of their power.

The sound of the wagon and neighing of the draft horse pulling it announced their arrival. Carol dropped her hand and took a step back from Ezekiel, whatever she was going to say in response to his declaration lost to Jerry's jovial greeting.

"Did she say yes?" the big man asked hopefully, hopping down off the back of the wagon with a huge grin. "Does he want her horse pet?"

Carol gave him a reluctant small smile. Taking the lead rope out of the King's hand she nodded yes to Jerry and started leading the horse towards the garage.

"Yes!" Jerry crowed, fist pumped and his grin got impossibly bigger, making Ezekiel chuckle.

Richard pulled the wagon the rest of the way through the gate and up in front of the garage so they could be closer to it to unload. He was _not_ smiling.

Jerry bucked a large bag of oats over his shoulder and followed after Carol, leaving Richard and Ezekiel alone.

"This is a waste of our time." Richard said in a cold quiet voice, still sitting on the wagon seat and holding the horse still.

"I am seeing to the welfare of one of my subjects." Ezekiel said sternly, "That is never a waste of time."

"You have better things to do than that woman." Richard retorted, "She's broken, sire, a lost cause and she'll drag you down with her."

"You don't know anything about her." Ezekiel said, his dreads shaking in anger.

"I don't have to. It's enough that she's turned your head—big _and_ little—away from your duties as our leader. The Saviors are at our doorstep and you dally with this... this..."

"I would consider your next words carefully, my friend." the King interrupted icily.

"Just fuck her and forget her, Zeke." Richard said abruptly, jumping down off of the wagon and tying off the harnessed horse. He grabbed a hay fork and stabbed it into the large pile of timothy grass and clover in the bed of the wagon and carried about half of it towards the garage, ignoring Ezekiel's angry glare.

* * *

Later that afternoon while she stood in her kitchen pondering what method she'd use to cook the rabbit she'd just butchered, the sound of a motorcycle made Carol's heart skip what felt like several beats. The people of the Kingdom relied on real horsepower, not the kind that came in the 100s in the engine of a Harley or Honda, so she hadn't heard anything like it in the weeks she'd been staying there. Moreover it was a _familiar_ sounding motorcycle engine, close enough to one she knew very well that she pushed back the curtain blocking her window to peer out at the road as the bike sped by heading toward town, the blurred glimpse of the winged leather vest on the rider's back drawing her heart up into her throat.

Without really making the conscious decision to do so, she was out of the house and tacking up Penny for the gallop cross country that would hopefully get her to town at about the same time as the more circuitous route of the paved road.

"Carol?" Morgan said, caught off guard by her arrival on the sweaty panting horse, still dancing with excitement from its headlong race into town, whose reins she held in tightly clenched hands.

"Where is he?" Carol said as she jumped off her mount, looking anxiously towards the school building with the auditorium that Ezekiel used as his court, as she also worked to calm the horse, running her hand down the animal's neck. When she spotted the bastardized Triumph parked in front of the building she handed Morgan the reins and started towards it.

" _Carol—wait!"_ Morgan called after her, but Carol didn't slow her determined stride. Looking about him he spotted one of the kids in his Bow staff class and called her over to hand off the reins, instructing her to walk the horse to cool it down, and then took off after Carol.

Kneeling in front of the King with his head bowed, the man in black leather was speaking to Ezekiel, but a very angry Richard was pointing a gun at his head and a glaring Jerry stood nearby, his big machete held somewhat menacingly in the crook of his arm. Shiva was also standing next to him, growling softly.

Ezekiel's head came up with the rear auditorium door's opening and he raised his hand to silence the man in front of him.

"I'm sorry, but this is a private audience, fair lady." the King called out.

"I know... I think I know him." Carol said, continuing to come towards the front even as Morgan came through the doors and followed her down.

"Carol, no." Morgan said, taking her arm to stop her.

The man kneeling turned to look at her. His burn scarred face was bloody and bruised, partially obscured by his dirty blonde hair hanging in greasy hanks over it and the undamaged half.

"You know _Dwight?_ " Ezekiel frowned.

"How would _you_ know one of the Saviors?" Richard asked suspiciously.

" _Where the hell is Daryl?"_ Carol yelled, shaking off Morgan's grasp and rushing to the stage, pulling her pistol from her leg holster and aiming it at the kneeling man.

"Daryl?" Ezekiel asked.

"The man that motorcycle and vest belong to." Carol said, her low tone filled with fury.

"He's why I'm here." Dwight sighed. "He said... he told me... he made me _believe_ we could take Negan down if we all worked together. _All of us_. Kept telling me that nobody does it alone anymore."

"Is he dead?" Carol forced herself to ask, swallowing down the lump in her throat to get the words out.

Morgan stood behind her, sympathy etching his features.

"I don't know. I hope not..." Dwight said, shrugging a bit helplessly. "I'm supposed to be out hunting him. He escaped."

"He escaped from _Sanctuary?_ "Jerry asked with a low whistle. "Isn't that supposed to be _impossible_?"

"Not if he had help." Dwight admitted with a rueful smile. "Told ya—he made me believe. He's supposed to be heading to Hilltop to find some chick named Maggie to send Jesus to Rick at Alexandria and then they're coming here. I been here before so I was sent to tell you to expect them."

"They seek to involve my Kingdom in their war?" Ezekiel asked, his narrow eyed gaze pinning Dwight back until he raised his hands in a pose of surrender.

"Don't shoot the messenger, man." he said to Ezekiel, but his eyes went to Carol who was still literally pointing a pistol at his head.

"Take off the vest." Carol ordered him.

"I gotta go back to Sanctuary—report in so he doesn't suspect anything. He'll ask me where it went." Dwight said, shaking his head, "He _notices_ shit like that."

"Tell him a good story." Carol said dismissively, "I want the vest." she cocked the gun _, "Now."_

" _Whoa whoa whoa, shit,_ woman!" Dwight whined, raising his hands even higher.

"I think you should do what the lady says." Jerry said with a big smile.

Dwight quickly moved to peel the offending garment from his thin torso and throw it at Carol who caught it one handed, keeping the other holding the pistol still trained on him.

"I suppose you want the bike too?" Dwight sighed, raising his hands again.

"No. I want you to use it to go back and be the inside man. That's the plan, right?" Carol said, lowering the gun. "Keep your enemies closer?"

"Who the hell _are_ you, lady?" Dwight asked, looking back and forth between her and Ezekiel.

Carol tucked the gun back in its holster and folded the vest in half, her hand briefly running down its surface in almost a caress. Ignoring Dwight's question and Ezekiel's raised eyebrow look she took a giant step backwards and then turned, striding back up the aisle and out of the auditorium.

Ezekiel stood as if he wished to go after Carol.

Shiva roared, agitated by her Master's unease while Richard scoffed and Jerry frowned.

"Your worst nightmare if anything has happened to Daryl." Morgan intoned solemnly, responding to Dwight's question, leaning on his staff and shaking his head as the tiger's roar died out.

* * *

 _AN: So now we know the reason for Richard's strong hatred of Negan, at least in this story, and thus his anger at Ezekiel for wasting time wooing Carol._

 _Yes, I have Daryl escape Sanctuary with Dwight's help, (which I think possibly they are setting up on the show) which may be the impetus for Rick to come out about his plans to overthrow Negan._

 _Seeing Dwight with Daryl's things shocks Carol out of her complacency. She told Morgan when they first arrived that Kingdom was a fairy tale, one she came very close to allowing herself become a part of by ignoring her past in favor of the fantasy Ezekiel was trying to give her._

 _Thanks for reading! I appreciate those of you who have also taken the time to review. It helps to know my therapy is helping others as well. Caryl on!_


	7. Chapter 7: Knight of the Living Dead

Daryl finds refuge at Hilltop, but must deal with the emotional fallout that accompanies it.

* * *

 _Knight of the Living Dead_

"Everybody's got dead people. It's no excuse to get everybody else dead along the way." Rocket, _Guardians of the Galaxy_

" _As far as he's concerned you're dead—so you better find a place where you can stay that way—at least for awhile."_

* * *

He couldn't go back to Alexandria, which was the first place Negan would look. He'd punish them if he found them giving refuge to a runaway. So instead he made his way to Hilltop, hoping that Jesus and their prick of a leader, Gregory, would be willing to help him.

He'd hoped to find Maggie there as well. She hadn't looked good even before what had happened... thought they were probably taking her to the doc at Hilltop and after everything she'd still need to go there. He planned to offer up himself in any plan they wanted to take down the Saviors. It was all he could think to do to even start to make up for what he'd done, the losses he'd cost her...

Daryl was in terrible shape, physically; had passed out twice and almost wrecked the junker Jeep Dwight had boosted and left for him hidden a mile from Sanctuary, just where he said it would be. He'd have preferred his bike, or one of the big hogs he'd seen in the yard or even a dirt bike, but he knew with his shoulder the way it was he couldn't have stayed on it. He barely made it to the territory controlled by Hilltop, ditching the Jeep after he got it stuck in the mud that formed an outer ring barrier if you tried getting there by any way but the main road. After a tortuous slog and climb to the top of the hill, he collapsed at the front gates, almost skewered by a spear for his trouble until Sasha recognized him.

He woke up in their infirmary to Dr. Carson putting his shoulder back in, almost passing out again with the relief from the agony he'd lived with since Negan had cheerfully instructed his men to dislocate it a week ago after they'd gotten back from Alexandria. He'd been frustrated that some of Rick's people were still showing signs of defiance, including Daryl, whose spirit he couldn't break, so he settled for breaking his body instead, refusing to let their Carson repair it.

"Will he be all right?" Maggie asked, her voice hoarse with what sounded like concern, _but that couldn't be right, Daryl thought. She hated him now._

"He's severely malnourished, was stabbed and later shot in the same shoulder at close range, has contusions and wounds over most of his body—the shoulder dislocation was the most painful injury—but... but it looks like he's been _tortured_ ; has several cracked ribs, burn marks on his feet and back... and the open wound on his arm... this man was savaged."

"But not bit? He'll be o _kay_?" Maggie asked, the South Georgia coming out in her drawl.

"With time, yes. He'll recover." the doctor assured her.

"Good." she replied, sounding relieved.

 _But why would she be? He'd killed her husband._

"Let me know when he wakes?" Maggie asked.

"Oh, he's awake." Carson said blandly, aware Daryl was playing possum, moving to the basin to wash his hands and then dry them on a white towel before giving Maggie a knowing smile and exiting the room.

"I'm glad you're safe." Maggie said gently, moving closer to the examining table where Daryl lay.

Daryl couldn't speak. Or move.

"Daryl?" she reached out her hand to his, but he flinched back, his body curling in on itself protectively. When he didn't respond Maggie sighed and stepped back.

"There's food and water in the next room for you." she told him encouragingly, "We're on short rations so it's not much, but your stomach probably can't handle much right now. When you're ready there's a change of clothes and some boots there for you too." she started to go, but paused in the doorway, "I'm glad you're here." she added softly, "We need you with us."

" _Why?"_ Daryl rasped, sounding bewildered. How could she say that? After what he'd done, what he'd _caused_?

"Because we're family." Maggie said firmly.

Hearing her say words so much like the ones Glenn had used to try and convince him not to leave with Merle after Woodbury made Daryl's throat close up and tears come to his eyes.

"You get some rest now." Maggie soothed, "I'll be back later." she promised, and then she was gone.

* * *

"He's shouldering all the blame." Maggie said, sitting at the picnic table outside the Clinic nursing a cup of one of Carson's god awful herbal tea blends, this one supposedly good for pregnancies.

"Same as he did after Grady... we've seen him like this before." Sasha agreed. "He just has to work through it."

"Well, I wish Carol was here to help." Maggie gave a sad smile, "She and he have always had a special bond..."

"I'm heading out at dusk for Alexandria." Jesus said, "Do you want me to see if she'll come back with me?" He hadn't seen the woman during his brief stay at Alexandria, but if she was indeed close to the Archer, maybe she was exactly what he needed.

"She's not there." Maggie said, "She left right before all this started; Rick told us he and Morgan went out searching right after Daryl left that day, but they didn't find her and Morgan never came back either."

Glenn, Michonne and Rosita had already left to chase after Daryl when Rick came to see if Maggie knew anything about where Carol might go. They had been through their own harrowing experience with the Saviors less than a week before, but she and Carol had never really tried to talk to each other about what had happened there. It was as if they both just wanted to forget it and move on.

"Tobin didn't go after her?" Sasha asked.

"No. Just Rick and Morgan." Maggie told them. She'd been surprised when Carol had taken up with the tall Alexandrian, distancing herself from her old group, but then decided maybe that was how she was trying to cope with what they'd had to do.

"So she left him?" Sasha frowned. The thing with Tobin had confused her, unsure if it was part of her happy homemaker cover or if she was finally really giving up on Daryl. Like Maggie said, everyone knew they were especially close, their reunion in the woods outside Terminus a very visible testament to that fact, but his awkward ways seemed to keep it from developing into anything more. She'd always been of the opinion that Carol cared too much about him to push for more and risk losing him all together.

"I don't know. Rick said she left him a note, but I don't know what was in it." Maggie admitted, wishing now she'd pressed for more information. She'd been in a hurry to get ready for her haircutting appointment with Enid and though concerned about Carol, felt Rick could handle the search. Besides, if Carol didn't want to be found, she wouldn't be.

"Well, for God's sake don't tell Daryl she's missing!" Sasha blurted. "He's drowning in enough grief and guilt and blame without worrying about her too. If there's anyone who can take care of herself out there, it's Carol. "

"Color me intrigued." Jesus grinned, "What's she look like in case I happen to run into her on the road?"

"That's right, you didn't meet here when you were there." Maggie remembered. He hadn't spent much time in Alexandria and had only met a few of the people there. "She's about five five or five six, big blue eyes, cap of gray hair, petite but deadly. Carries a trench knife and sniper rifle, both of which she uses with deadly accuracy."

"She also makes pretty damn good cookies." Sasha smiled, remembering better times.

" _She's_ the cookie maker? Ah." Jesus nodded thoughtfully to himself, "That makes sense now."

"What?" Maggie frowned.

"Something Daryl said to me once..." he let his voice trail off as his attention was caught by something behind Maggie and Sasha. He rapidly stood and rushed in the direction of his gaze, making Maggie and Sasha turn to look.

" _Stubborn son of a—"_ Maggie muttered and rose as well.

Daryl was leaning heavily on the frame of doorway into the Clinic and his hair hanging over most of his face didn't conceal the wince of agony as he shuffled forward. He was wearing the clothes she'd left him including pull on boots so he didn't have to try and tie shoe laces one handed. He hadn't been able to remove the tight sling that bound his arm to his body to keep him from moving it and aggravating the shoulder injury or even popping it back out if he tried using it too hard, so he only had one arm in the sleeve of the flannel shirt; the other he'd tucked into the sling so his back would be covered.

When Jesus reached him he ignored Daryl's glare and went under the free arm to help support him, pulling it over his own shoulders. Anyone who knew Daryl well would've hesitated before attempting the move, and it spoke of his weakened condition that he allowed it. They continued walking forward until they reached Sasha. Daryl stopped and though he kept his head down, he looked up at her through his bangs, his guilt at surviving when the two women had lost the ones they loved apparent in his wince of shame.

"It's good to see you, Daryl." Sasha said gently, "We're so glad you're okay and here with us."

Daryl shook his head slowly back and forth in denial.

"You're not the boss of me." Sasha said, putting a little of the attitude she used to give Tyreese into her words, "I can be happy to see you if I want to be."

Daryl snorted out a derisive grunt.

"You shouldn't be up yet." Maggie told him, her tone concerned.

"Got shit to do." Daryl said, finally succeeding in shrugging off Jesus' help and standing straighter though it was easy to see how much the effort cost him. His bruised face was pale as milk, eyes blue bloodshot slits inside puffed swollen and red sockets when he finally raised them to look at the three of them.

"You're not doing anything until you take some time and get your strength back." Maggie insisted, pointing Jesus towards the picnic table bench to make Daryl sit. He herded the other man towards it.

"There _ain't_ no time!" Daryl almost shouted before reluctantly sinking down onto the bench seat, angry at being betrayed by his body and showing weakness. "He don't buy Dwight's story, Negan knows I'm gone and he's gonna head for Rick n' then take it outa _his_ hide."

"Dwight?" Sasha asked.

"He helped get me out—was on retrieval detail outside the fences—supposed to tell Negan I was taken out by walkers, nothin' much left. Took my clothes and my devil to throw in with some other chewed up body parts..."

"Your arm wound... oh my God..." Maggie said, understanding dawning. The bandage was directly over where Daryl had a tattoo of a small devil on the inside of his right bicep. The skin had been removed; the tat excised leaving a wound roughly two by three inches there.

"You let him _cut it out of your arm_?" Sasha asked, incredulous.

"You're Iron Man." Jesus shook his head back and forth in amazement.

Daryl shrugged. He'd done what he had to do.

"So now what?" Sasha asked, "Negan buys that you're dead, what next?"

"He'll use it against Rick—try to somehow—he's a sick fuck." Daryl huffed. "Need to let Rick know I'm alive and then we need to find more people to get our numbers up so's we can go up against the Saviors. Dwight knew of a group south of Sanctuary where they get their pork, place called the Kingdom. He went there to talk to them."

"It's run by a dude who calls himself King Ezekiel." Jesus nodded and then grinned, covering his mouth with his hand and chuckling, "He has a fucking real live Siegfried and Roy _tiger_ as a pet." then he sobered, adding thoughtfully, "We've tried to bring him in on an alliance against Negan before, but he refused, said he has a deal with them protecting his people in exchange for the goods they give them. He won't be easy to convince."

" _I'll_ convince him." Daryl said darkly, "Don't care if he's fuckin' King _Kong_ with a T-Rex on a leash. We need him and his people. Rick n' me will go meet with him; explain the way things are." he looked at Jesus, "You know him, we could use you too. Give us an in."

"I'm coming too." Sasha said, "You'll need back up."

"No. You already been through enough." Daryl shook his head at her. "You should stay here; help Maggie."

"I'm not some little woman to wait on the sidelines at home, Daryl." Sasha bit out, "Those monsters took from me—from all of us—and you better believe I'm going to _see_ to it that they _pay."_

"What happens next time they show up and one of our best fighters ain't here?" Daryl argued."They need you here, same as Alexandria needed Carol when the Wolves came."

At the mention of that name Jesus, Maggie and Sasha shared a quick worried look and then stared at the ground.

Being observant, Daryl saw it and a flash of pain passed over his face.

"Is she dead?" he asked in a quiet dry parched whisper, part of him knowing that would be a just punishment for him. He'd cost Maggie the people she loved most. God could take the same from him in retribution. When he hadn't seen her in Alexandria he had worried she was lost to him, but his brain couldn't hold onto that and also give him the will to keep going.

" _I don't know, Daryl... I just... I don't know..."_ Maggie said, deep regret in her eyes.

"She's gone Daryl... left sometime in the night before you went after Dwight." Sasha told him.

" _Gone?"_ Daryl asked, stunned, guilty. _How had he not seen it in her? He'd been with her, that night, at Denise's graveside... She'd tried to leave before; only this time he'd had his head up his ass and hadn't been there to stop her. Yeah, he'd been too full of his own fucking need for revenge and it had cost him yet another member of his family._

"She took a car. She left a note saying not to come after her, but Rick and Morgan looked for her." Maggie explained, and then winced, adding more softly "Only Rick came back."

Daryl felt the same wave of helplessness roll through him as he'd felt that night on the road kneeling in front of Negan. It had made him act without thinking, ready to take on the monster that just killed his friend, who was taunting another, just like the monster he'd grown up with. _Hit me, not them, I can take it..._

"She's strong and she's smart, Daryl." Sasha reminded him, "You _know_ he can take care of herself and for that matter so can Morgan."

"Don't none of that matter if Negan gets his hands on 'em." Daryl said, standing resolutely, swaying though, still too weak to walk on his own, his own evidence of the damage that the leader of the Saviors was capable of doing.

Maggie jumped up and took his good arm to support him.

Daryl's body stiffened, his first impulse to shrug her off, but all of the things she was to him, all his guilt and concern over her pregnancy passed across his face and made him allow her to help him.

"You're headin' to Alexandria tonight." Daryl told Jesus. "And I'm coming with you."

"No—Negan has people stationed all around there. It's too risky." Jesus said, nodding his head back and forth."As far as he's concerned you're dead—so you better find a place where you can stay that way—at least for awhile."

"This Kingdom? How close does he keep tabs on it?" Maggie asked.

"As far as I know they have a good deal with him; never late with their tribute, Negan's been pretty hands off with them after their first lesson."

"First _lesson_..." Sasha spat, her deep seated righteous anger barely in check.

"Yeah." Jesus sighed; sorry he had to talk about it with the two women most affected by Negan's "lesson" to Alexandria.

"So he murders someone as an example, this King falls into line." Daryl said flatly. "Gotta be some resentment from..." he looked uneasily at Sasha and Maggie, "You know, the family of whoever he killed."

"Big guy—Zeke's right hand man—Richard. It was his brother." Jesus told them.

"He's our _in_ then." Daryl exchanged a nod with the other man.

"Listen Dixon, it's going to take me at least two days to skirt the patrols and get Rick back here. You need to do what the Doc—."

"I'll be ready to go when you get back." Daryl interrupted, clearly meaning he was going no matter what Carson said.

"You're not going anywhere if you don't get some rest." Maggie said resolutely and started to try and lead him back into the Clinic, leaning in and adding in almost a whisper, _"You can't look for her if you don't..."_

Daryl briefly resisted but then a look of utter exhaustion chased by a grimace and then a look of shame showed just how much pain he was still in and how much he hated the feeling of helplessness.

The fear that another person he cared about could be lost to him was like a cold knife at his throat.

The Daryl before the quarry outside Atlanta had always been a man who _reacted,_ a creature of impulse,something he'd fought and only overcome when forced to hide to save him from another beating or learn the patience for a successful hunt. When wounded in spirit he reverted to that version of himself that lashed out blindly.

What he needed to be now was the better version of him that had been honed by the love and caring of his new family, the one who was not just observant, but who could carefully plan with the best of them. That was the man who would find Carol and defeat Negan.

* * *

 _Caryl reunion at the Kingdom coming soon! Thanks for reading; it's what keeps me writing;-)_


	8. Chapter 8: The Fountain

**Chapter Notes:**

Daryl unknowingly draw closer to Carol as he comes to the Kingdom with Rick and Jesus to seek an alliance.

* * *

 ** _The Fountain_**

 _Fountain, fountain, we are the same  
Fountain, fountain, we are the same  
You with the water and me with the pain  
Turning it over again and again_

 _Don't you wish you could throw_  
 _Your pennies back at them?_  
 _Don't you wish you could throw_  
 _Your pennies back at them_  
 _Back at them, at them?_

 _Fountain, fountain, we are the same_  
 _Fountain, fountain, we are the same_  
 _All that anyone ever asks for you_  
 _Are the things you reflect back to them_

Sara Lov: Fountain

* * *

Daryl felt Rick staring at him again and turned his head to meet his eyes; saw the desperation warring with hope haunting his friend in the weary shake of his head and the tears that he wiped away with the heels of his hands.

He'd told Daryl he hadn't wanted to give him the letter, shoveling more shit on the pile under which they were already being buried alive, but he knew that his friend, his brother, deserved to know the truth about why Carol had left; that much of what she'd written had been meant for the Archer.

Rick watched as Daryl unfolded it with trembling hands, saw the play of emotions across his still bruised face as he took it all in, the flash of anger and accusing glance he threw Rick's way when he came to the part about her banishment from the prison, all Rick's doing, being one of the main reasons she felt disconnected from the ones she loved.

"We tried tracking her." Rick said, needing Daryl to understand how hard he'd tried to find her. "Found the car she took... in the middle of half a dozen dead Saviors. They stopped her on the road and then she stopped them."

" _Killed_ 'em you mean?" Daryl rasped, still looking at the letter, his mouth turned down.

"Well yeah—she's a force of nature—" Rick said proudly, but Daryl looked back at him incredulously.

"Did you even _read_ this fucking letter?" he asked, his voice harsh and rising in pitch, crushing the paper in his grasp and staring at Rick. "Killin's what she don't _want_ to do no more! It's killin' _her._.."

"We'll find her, Daryl, we will." Rick assured him, though both of them knew he could make no such promise. Morgan had tried and either not yet succeeded or died, and the probability was high that the same had happened to Carol.

"She don't _want_ to be _found._ " Daryl said bitterly, the last lines of her letter cutting into his heart like her finely honed knuckle duster knife. _"Don't come after me."_ Those words had been for him, the Tracker, the one who had run her to ground last time she'd tried to bolt back at the church. It hurt more than he thought he could stand to know that she didn't want anything more to do with any of them, with _him_. She had deliberately and completely cut him out of her life and he would never see her again.

 _"_ _Daryl...no..."_ Rick's murmured, his look of concern and hand to Daryl's shoulder was shrugged off roughly.

"This says _she_ ain't my problem no more..." Daryl said flatly, dropping the letter and walking away, his face a mask of indifference, adding over his shoulder, " _Negan_ is. Let's get this shit show on the road."

Shaking his head sadly Rick bent and retrieved the sheet of paper; carefully opening and smoothing it back out so he could fold it and return it to its envelope.

* * *

It had taken three days for Jesus to make it to Alexandria and back with Rick and another day while they tried to convince Gregory that the plan to make an alliance with Kingdom was a sound one. In the heated discussions it had come out that Gregory had negotiated a secret deal with Negan to inform him about any new groups the Hilltop scouts encountered. It was a toss-up who would kill him first, Rick or Jesus, but in the end it was Maggie who had settled it by cold-cocking the back-stabbing asshole and having him put in detention under armed guard.

Things happened pretty fast after that.

Maggie was elected by acclimation as the new leader of Hilltop.

Rick, Jesus and Daryl, against Doctor Carson's orders, set out cross-country in the Jeep in which Daryl had arrived. It was slow going to avoid any Savior road blocks The second day out Daryl removed his sling and started working on rebuilding his range of motion and strength when he was supposed to be resting even though he came close to passing out from the pain it caused.

He was sitting in the back seat of the Cherokee. Rick was riding shotgun while Jesus drove.

"Just like old times." Rovia said cheerfully.

Daryl's answering grunt told him what he thought of the wisdom of reminding them of the day they'd met, when he'd made them lose a whole truck load of supplies in a lake.

"So tell me more about this Ezekiel." Rick asked, very deliberately changing the subject.

* * *

"She is living in my Kingdom, under my rule." the King roared, "She will do as I say."

"I thought you only _played_ at being a fool." Morgan chided the King. "You promised her she was free to come and go as she chooses."

"Who is he to her? This _Dixon._ " Ezekiel said, almost petulant. Watching Carol retrieve the vest from Dwight at gunpoint as if it were a sacred object and then just walk out without another word had flummoxed him. He'd sent Richard with Dwight to see that he was supplied for his trip back to Sanctuary and then started to go after Carol, but Morgan had stopped him before he could leave the auditorium.

 _"_ _More."_

"More?"

"I once asked her if she trusted anyone." Morgan responded, "She said, ' _Some more than others_.' _He's_ the _more_."

The answer clearly didn't please the King.

"Then why did she leave him behind?" Ezekiel asked, his growl clearly showing his jealousy.

Morgan stared at him for a long time, his admonishing seriousness making the other man start to squirm.

"I watched my wife turn and my son die ugly. Who did you love that you wish you wish you could remember as they were... before?" Morgan said with slow deliberation.

"Every one of us has had losses." Ezekiel said, keeping his tone even, but his underlying skepticism still came through.

"And we all deal with them in our own way." Morgan replied. "Recovery isn't easy..."

"I gave her a place to recover, both physically and mentally." Ezekiel protested. "I've done everything I could—"

"Because you _wanted_ something from her?" Morgan interrupted. At the king's affronted look Morgan actually chuckled. "You're about as subtle as a man who keeps a tiger for a pet can be."

"I care about her... I only want what's best for her." Ezekiel said, narrowing his eyes at Morgan in challenge.

Again Morgan stared him down, gauging his sincerity.

"Fine." Morgan nodded, turning to go, but then he paused and looked back at the man with the tiger, "As long as you realize that may not be _you_."

* * *

When he reached the outer doors of the building that housed the throne room Morgan saw Richard watering his horse at the large basin of the fountain in what was now the community garden, but had formerly been the park at the center of the town square. He watched Richard throw something in the water, but then straighten and glance his way before turning back to look at the water.

"You get Dwight on his way?" Morgan asked, coming to stand next to Richard, leaning on his staff and gently petting the shoulder of the horse.

"Yep." Richard said in a clipped voice, staring at the fountain cascading up and falling from the center, keeping the water oxygenated and fresh, the mechanism that ran it powered by a solar panel at its base.

"You know much about him?"

"He's been here before." Richard shrugged, "Mouthpiece for Negan."

"You trust him?"

"Bout as much as I trust you." Richard looked over at him, eyes cold, "More than I trust the bitch you came in with."

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"I wish you'd never come here." Richard said, jerking his horse's head up and mounting it swiftly. He dug his heels in to the animal's sides and took off at a swift trot, weaving between the raised garden beds, not looking back.

Morgan leaned on his staff, watching him go and then as he turned to leave he saw a metallic flicker in the way the sun hit the water.

Leaning close she saw a single bright copper penny laying on the bottom and reached in and scooped it up. He stared at the now useless coin for a few more seconds and then pocketed it, hoping it would negate the dark wish he imagined Richard had made on it as he tossed it into the waters of the fountain.

* * *

"You don't belong here." Carol said mildly, not pausing in her scrub work to look up at the intruder. She sat in one of the kitchen chairs out on her back porch, Daryl's vest draped over her knee, wings up.

"You going looking for him?" Morgan asked pointedly, looking at her backpack propped against the outer wall of the house near the back door.

"Who?" Carol asked, lifting her arm to wipe the sweat from her brow with her sleeve and then returning to her task, using gentle but firm strokes with a stiff brush to remove the grime that had been ground into the cloth over leather.

"Dwight?" Morgan paused and squinted at her.

Carol ignored him.

"Negan?"

That won him a little snort of derision.

" _Daryl_?"

That made her pause momentarily, but then she shook her head no and returned to her work.

"He'll go home." She said with assurance, "To do what he can to help them."

"And when he doesn't find _you_ there?" Morgan asked shrewdly.

"Rick will tell him that I've gone. That I _chose_ to go..." _...this time_ , was the unspoken end to that statement. Not like when she'd been exiled without a trial from the Prison.

 _'_ _When we were out by the car... what if I didn't show up?'_

The hurt and concern she'd heard in Daryl's tone when he'd voiced that question in the Atlanta Women's Shelter had her temporizing on her answer to him back then: _'I still don't know...'_

She'd known. She just hadn't wanted to tell him to his face that she was leaving him. That she had to.

He'd dogged her steps since the reunion outside Terminus. After almost losing her again at Grady, he had pretty much stayed by her side until they'd reached Alexandria. His concern, his watchfulness hadn't seemed so necessary there. She became herself again by _not_ being herself. She planned for every contingency as carefully and methodically as she put distance between them.

"So if you're not going looking... you runnin'?"

"Already ran." She shrugged, her lips curling into a rueful smirk, "Some stubborn son of a bitch followed me."

" _He_ would've; he'd a' been there." Morgan shook his head at her, "You _know_ that."

"Leave it alone, Morgan." Carol warned, her scrubbing hand slowing to a halt, gripping the leather more tightly with the other.

"You know how he feels about you." Morgan prodded, "And you're afraid of it."

Carol's jaw clenched so tight she wouldn't be surprised if her molars started to crack.

"Just like you're afraid to ask yourself why you're cleaning that for him if you never expect to see him again." Morgan blew out a frustrated breath and leaned close enough to pick up Carol's back pack, despite what she'd told him, half believing he would find it loaded as a go bag, with provisions and clothes.

Carol growled at him and made a grab for the pack, but Morgan was too fast, dancing back out of her reach.

It was full of apples.

"For the horse?" Morgan raised an eyebrow as he picked one off the top and then returned the bag to the ground.

"And a try at a pie. It was supposed to be a surprise." Carol nodded, a bit exasperated, then she shrugged, "If that doesn't work there's always applesauce."

"When life gives you apples..." Morgan mused, tossing the apple up and easily catching it, polishing it to a sheen on his sleeve before taking a crunching bite into it.

At his words Carol felt a pang. There was always plenty of applesauce in Alexandria. It was one of the things as recruiters Aaron and Daryl used as enticement to join the community.

"If _he_ comes looking?" Morgan asked, tilting his head to the side, considering her small frown, "Just shows up here in the Kingdom? Then what?"

He watched the struggle move across her expressive face, worried that he had pushed her too hard when he saw tears form before she looked away, blinking rapidly.

"Carol..." he began in apology, but she shook her head at him rapidly.

 _"_ _Please..." s_ he said softly, and then turned to meet his eyes, hers full of pain. _"I can't."_

 _'_ _I love you all here, I do. But I'd have to kill for you, and I can't. I won't.'_

Seeing Daryl would drag her back into the middle of a fight that could destroy her. She couldn't refuse the need to protect the ones... the _one_ she loved.

"I won't... I won't say anything." Morgan reluctantly agreed, "You know Zeke won't either." He added more slowly. They both knew Ezekiel's other reasons for keeping her presence there a secret from Daryl should he show up.

"Thank you." Carol said quietly, refusing to discuss the King's motivations.

* * *

"All weapons must be surrendered before you may be admitted into the King's presence." Richard said, refusing to let them pass.

"We already gave up our knives and our gun at the gate." Rick protested. They only had one, a pistol, which had been given to Daryl by Dwight when he freed him. The Saviors had taken all of the guns from both Alexandria and Hilltop and gaining access to any supplies of them was a top priority for everyone who wanted to stand up to Negan. The sentry, to whom they'd surrendered the weapons, had looked at the 9mm and the rounds that Eugene had secretly fashioned from spent shell casings with reverence.

"Hands against the wall." Richard ordered brusquely.

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me." Daryl said, balking at the directive to assume the position to be searched.

"Don't act like you've never been frisked before, asshole." Richard snarked, his eyes raking the rough looking man up and down.

"Fuck you n' the horse you rode in on." Daryl rasped, getting in the other man's face.

"You think he's hiding an AK in his pants, Rich?" Jesus chuckled, stepping between them and putting a hand on each of their chests, "We gave you everything we had on us."

"They pull something? It's on _you_ , Rovia." Richard grumbled suspiciously, backing down, but still eyeballing Daryl.

"You probably want to show a little more respect." Jesus said laconically, "Daryl here just escaped from right under Negan's nose."

"Bullshit." Richard scoffed, spitting at Daryl's feet.

Daryl snorted and moved forward, pushing open the door of the building housing the theatre and striding through and into the lobby. He was stopped short by a mountain of a man with Asian features holding a spear, his smiling face regarding the newcomers with a curious yet stern expression.

"Hey Jesus." The big man nodded with a grin, which Rovia returned, along with a jaunty salute.

"Welcome to the Court of King Ezekiel gentlemen." He smiled at Rick and Daryl, "My name is Jerry; I'll be your liaison today." Then his face turned more serious, "You will not speak unless directly spoken to when in the King's presence." He warned and then waited for the men to acknowledge the order.

Rick and Daryl exchanged a 'you've got to be fucking kidding me' glance, Daryl bristling more than Rick, but sttill nodded at Jerry in reluctant agreement.

"Cool." Jerry smiled and then swept his free hand out to indicate the door to the auditorium, "If you will follow me?"

Just as his hand touched the door handle an earth shattering roar came from the room within.

Rick and Daryl looked over at Jesus, wide-eyed and open mouthed.

"What? I told you there was a tiger." Rovia shrugged.

"You gonna pee your pants, redneck?" Richard snarked at Daryl, blocking his way.

Daryl broke into a wide grin, looking like an excited little kid, the smile seeming out of place on his battered face, the bruises under his eyes not yet faded past a yellow-purple. He pushed past Richard and came up against Jerry, who just grinned back at him as he stepped back and opened the door.

"Ho-lee _shit_." Daryl laughed, "I don't know what the hell else you got goin' on in this crazy ass place, but that's a sure as _shit_ a big fucking _tiger._.." he punched Rick hard on the shoulder when the other man joined him in staring at the creature chained by the throne.

A trumpet call sounded over the sound system—or maybe there really was someone playing a trumpet backstage—and a handsome African American man with long gray dreads, wearing purple robe and carrying a scepter staff came out of the wings. He stopped to ruffle the tiger's ears and then ascended to the throne where after a flourish to move his robe aside, he sat.

Jerry and Richard marched down to the front of the theater and then up onto the stage, taking their places on either side of the King.

"Come forth gentles." Ezekiel beckoned the others forward and Rick, Daryl and Jesus walked ahead until Jerry held up his hand to stop them at the last row of seats before the orchestra pit.

"Friend Rovia, how have you fared since we last spoke?" the King asked pleasantly.

"There is great peril in the lands bordering your realm, King Ezekiel." Jesus said gravely without a hint of sarcasm or humor. "Our mutual enemy continues to spread his malign influences further afield."

"Alas, I have heard the tales." Ezekiel nodded, leaning forward and peering at Rick and Daryl, "Is this why you have brought visitors to my Kingdom?"

"It is, your highness." Jesus nodded back, "May I present Lord Richard Grimes of Alexandria and his squire, Daryl Dixon?"

Rick side-eyed Jesus and Daryl just snorted at the preposterous pompousness of it all.

"Ah yes, we have been forewarned of your coming by the Worm-tongued lackey of our foe." The king said broodingly.

Ezekiel's narrow eyed gaze focused especially on Daryl. He looked the shaggy haired man up and down, sizing him up, taking in his faded flannel shirt, sleeveless despite the autumn chill in the air, showing off his cut arms and shoulders, the injured one still marred by deep bruising and the white bandage on his bicep. His dark jeans hung loose on his hips, held up with a belt that had enough extra leather left over after being cinched tight to hang down almost to the crotch of the pants. The denim legs of them were drawn tight around his calves and ankles and bound with what looked like shoelaces and he had on scuffed and dirty shit kicker boots.

The King frowned. _This_ scruffy creature was the man for whom Carol felt so much?

"You mean that trying to _prove_ he's reformed asshole, Dwight?" Daryl asked, forgetting Jerry's warning not to speak unless spoken to.

"You forget yourself, knave!" Richard thundered and took a menacing step forward, pointing his spear at Daryl.

Jesus stepped in front of Daryl, again holding his hands palms up to both men to ask for calm.

"Let's just cut the bullshit—" Daryl began hotly, but Rick put his hand on his friend's arm to silence him.

"Daryl only recently escaped from cruel captivity in the dungeons of Sanctuary. He was tortured by the Saviors, forgive him for speaking out of turn." Jesus pleaded.

"What say you, Lord Grimes?" Ezekiel asked, "Do you stand by your vassal?"

"We... we've lost a lot to the Saviors, just like you have, just like Hilltop. People we cared about... friends, _family..._ Daryl's part of that family so he's got good reason to be low on patience and after what Negan did to him, he's got more reason to pop off than others." Rick said humbly. "I apologize if you were offended."

After a few beats Ezekiel inclined his head indicating he accepted the apology.

"And so why have you come to my Kingdom?" the King asked next.

"We came here looking for help." Rick said plainly. "We have the will, but we don't have the numbers or the supplies to go against the Saviors. Jesus said you do. We want to form an alliance with you."

 _"_ _To fight back?"_ Richard blurted excitedly, but his enthusiasm was quelled by a warning shake of the head from Jerry.

"To fight back." Rick nodded, keeping his eyes on the King as he spoke, his voice rising in forcefulness, "To take back what was _stolen_ from us. To _avenge_ those he took from us. To get back our freedom to _live_."

"Hilltop has voted to join them." Jesus told Ezekiel proudly, standing shoulder to shoulder with Rick and Daryl.

"What says Kingdom?" Rick asked, his face flushed with emotion.

"Kingdom says... Ezekiel paused, blanked his face, and then said a succinct " _No._ " with a shake of his head.

* * *

 **AN:** They're finally in the same place, but Morgan has promised not to reveal that truth to Daryl. He in turn is also hurt when Rick shows him her letter by the revelation that Carol deliberately planned all along to leave him and the rest of the family, so he chooses to focus solely on revenge yet again.

Oh these crazy kids!


	9. Chapter 9: You and I Collide

_Richard's bold plan to bring Ezekiel into the alliance against Negan hits a snag named Daryl Dixon_.

* * *

You and I Collide

 _But I'm open, you're closed  
where I follow, you'll go  
I worry I won't see your face  
light up again_

 _Even the best fall down sometimes_  
 _Even the wrong words seem to rhyme_  
 _Out of the doubt that fills your mind_  
 _I somehow find_  
 _You and I collide_

 _I'm quiet you know  
You make a first impression  
Well, I've found I'm scared to know  
I'm always on your mind  
Don't stop here  
I lost my place  
I'm close behind_

 _Even the best fall down sometimes_  
 _Even the wrong words seem to rhyme_  
 _Out of the doubt that fills your mind_  
 _You finally find_  
 _You and I collide_

 _You finally find_  
 _You and I collide_

-Howie Day: "Collide"

* * *

"This was a waste of our time." Rick said, looking like he wished he had something he could break or better yet, someone he could punch in the face.

"We can't leave until we convince him to join us; we just don't have the manpower without the Kingdom."Jesus said, sounding extremely frustrated.

They were in the quarters that they had been assigned for their overnight stay, Richard having escorted them there after Ezekiel's refusal to even discuss an alliance.

"Sounded pretty damn sure." Daryl growled skeptically. "Gotta be someplace else we can try."

"There isn't." Jesus said, "I've been all over this part of the world, all the way up to D.C and out to the coast. This is the only community that is anywhere near the size of Sanctuary. We need Kingdom on our side."

"Then we need to find a way to convince their... _King_ to join us." Rick muttered, still looking like he felt Ezekiel was a raving loon, but willing to overlook that if he was willing to throw his lot in with them.

"There's a way to convince him, but none of you have the balls to do it." Richard said, his mouth twisting in distaste. He looked specifically at Daryl as if daring him to disagree and then shook his head, turned on his heel and left the room.

Figuring the only way to see what it was about was to play along; Daryl followed the King's lieutenant into the hallway, nodding a clear _I got this_ look at Rick.

"Whatta ya mean you got a way to convince him?" Daryl asked without preamble.

"Hit him where it hurts." Richard said, his mouth twisting into an ugly smile.

Daryl frowned and tilted his head then crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the other man to elaborate.

"There's a woman, in a little place north of town." Richard said, his squinty eyes boring into Daryl's, "Zeke makes special visits out there pretty regular."

"Why?" Daryl asked, trying to affect a bored tone, but he could pretty much guess where this was going.

"What else?" Richard rolled his eyes, grabbed his own crotch and then crudely mimicked pumping his pelvis rapidly up and back.

"Shit." Daryl muttered, grimacing in distaste, thoughts of Negan's unwilling harem haunting him. "She _want_ to be there?"

"She's dippin' in the well pretty damn deep. He gives her whatever she wants—food and even one of our best horses—and she sure as hell don't do any work here in town to earn it." Richard said bitterly.

"Long as it's really her choice, none of my business..." Daryl shrugged and looked uncomfortable. He understood very well how someone could trade their body for safety—hell for all he knew, she was in _love_ with the King and he with her...

Richard just stared at him with an expression that said Daryl wasn't getting the point.

"So I figure we take out his piece of ass and make it look like the same Saviors that _already_ got a piece of her came back to finish the job." Richard said with purposeful menace.

"You think _that'll_ motivate him?" he said, narrowing his eyes as if considering it while inside he was seething. This asshole was ready to _kill_ an innocent woman for the sake of his revenge.

"Kill two birds with one stone as far as I'm concerned." Richard nodded with a wolfish grin, "Ever since that grey haired bitch Carol showed up Ezekiel's had his head up his ass—"

Daryl saw Richard's mouth continue to move, knew he was still talking, spewing forth a listing of wrongs and slights he felt had been committed against him, justifying his venomous murderous plans, but all Daryl could hear was white noise, then a gale force rushing sound like the wind storm that had tried to kill them all in that barn, and then he saw...

 _Her soft lips brushing his forehead, reinforcing her words: "You're every bit as good as them, every bit..."  
Her trembling body as he stopped her from bolting past him to embrace her dead child..._  
 _Her unflinching stance, waiting for the blow after she kept him from leaving the farm with her words...  
Her standing beside him on the prison tower, stepping up to take her rightful place as defender, rifle in hand...  
Her grin as she flirted, pushing his boundaries atop the bus, wishing she'd pushed harder...  
Her body, feather light in his arms as he pulled her out of Solitary, his heart soaring that her grave would remain empty...  
Her eyes filled with happy welcome even after he'd left with Merle...  
Her telling him he'd have to learn to live with the love, confident and in charge, running the place...  
Her just gone, lost again, this time to Rick's swift rush to judgment...  
Her face so unsure of her welcome, suddenly appearing there in the woods, even after just saving them, all by herself...  
Her standing by the running car when he came out of the woods...  
Her flying through the air as the car came out of nowhere and slammed into her...  
Her hand on his shoulder stopping him from killing everyone in the hallway at Grady...  
Her kiss to his forehead: "You have to feel it..."  
Her look of puzzlement when he refused the pistol she'd stolen...  
Her distance...  
Her horror blanked face when he asked her if she was good...  
Her admission that she wasn't, taking her into his arms, offering solace...  
Her refusal to take it...  
Her silence the last time he'd seen her as they buried Denise._

One after another the images rushed by; he couldn't stop them from crowding their way into his head until all that was left was a white hot rage.

She was _here_.

 _Alive._

And this _ass hole_ wanted to _kill_ her.

Richard's head bounced off the wall with such a loud crack that Rick and Jesus came barreling out of the room to see what the hell the noise was. They found him on the floor, unconscious, a bruise rapidly forming on his jaw, blood leaking from his mouth.

Daryl was gone.

* * *

"Where's the cat?" Carol asked, looking around when she opened the door, taking in Ezekiel's lack of royal robes and the uncharacteristically nervous fidget of his hand on the bowl of fruit he was holding out to her.

"Shiva is having her supper so I thought I'd take you up on the standing invitation to join your repast." Ezekiel smiled, but again, there was something _off_ in his voice and he was _alone_.

"Where's Jerry?" Carol asked, frowning. Either Richard and/or Jerry always flanked their King, especially when he was out and about without the tiger.

"Standing as guardian at your gate." Ezekiel said, turning and gesturing at the big man, who leaned in and waved at Carol, but didn't flash his usual smile. Instead he looked pensive, even troubled before he took a few steps back to move out of sight, granting them some privacy.

"What's going on?" Carol asked, her hackles rising, her hand going to her knife.

"Can I not pay the fair damsel Carol a social call without having an ulterior motive?' Ezekiel asked, his voice rising, affecting offense, his free hand spreading over his chest.

Carol's eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips before answering.

"No." she said firmly, matching his raised volume, "And if you don't think I understand your motives by now, you don't know me at all."

" _Yeah, but I do."_ The voice at the gate was one she never thought she'd hear again.

* * *

"You _son of a bitch_ ; you found her, _didn't you_?" Daryl had barked when he'd stormed out of the house in which they'd been allowed to stay and came face to face with Morgan Jones.

"Daryl." Morgan said evenly, but blocked his way, his staff at the ready. He'd been surreptitiously watching the three men from Alexandria and Hilltop's progress, unwilling to give away his presence, but seeing Daryl come out of the house alone with a full head of steam, he knew that somehow the Archer had learned about Carol.

"You both been _here_ this whole time?"Daryl seethed, leaning in, invading Morgan's space, intentionally intimidating with his taut angry posture.

"You need to calm down." Morgan said stoically.

" _I know she's here—Richard told me. Where is she?"_ Daryl snarled, grabbing a handful of Morgan's shirt at his chest with his stronger hand.

The barest hint of a smile crossed Morgan's lips. He'd promised Carol he wouldn't tell Daryl she was here.

He hadn't.

 _Richard_ had.

"She's been through a lot." Morgan said carefully, mentally crossing his fingers that he was doing the right thing. There was a fine line between being a dick by going back on his word to Carol and hoping he was truly helping his friend by sending this man to her.

"We've _all_ been through a lot!" Daryl snarled sarcastically, releasing Morgan with a shove back. "Some of us stay and face up to it instead of takin' off when people's backs are turned!"

"She wanted to _die,_ Daryl." Morgan said quietly, his voice full of emotion, "One of the Saviors _shot her... twice..._ She told me to leave her, just let her bleed out onto the pavement. Kingdom scouts found us, brought us here and saved her." He omitted the fact that he had killed the Savior who'd been about to make her death wish come true.

Daryl's anger drained off, replaced by fear for her and... something _else_ he wasn't ready to give a name to yet.

"But she's okay now?" Daryl asked, his tone tentative with concern. "Healed up?"

"She's getting there. She had her reasons for leaving Alexandria; they haven't changed. She left a letter..."

"Saw it."

"Then you know how much she was hurting—inside—and I know you have a bond, but—"

"You don't know shit." Daryl scowled.

"She says doesn't want to see you." Morgan told him and watched the play of emotions move across Daryl's face: the quick wince of pain as if he'd been slapped and then the determination, the slow deep breath to gather himself.

"Need to know she's safe." He grunted.

"And you won't believe anything I say until you've seen her with your own two eyes." Morgan sighed.

"That prick—Richard? He wants to _kill_ her." Daryl's jaws ground together in anger, pointing back to the building where he'd just laid the other man out, his voice rising, "Said that's how we get King Zeke to go to war."

"His brother..." Morgan started to try to defend Richard, but Daryl cut him off.

"Yeah, Negan killed a lot of people's brothers—I watched him murder Abe and Glenn—that don't mean I go around looking to kill people to get some sort of fucked up revenge!"

" _Oh my God."_ Morgan's mouth came open in horror to hear of the deaths. He hadn't been in Alexandria long, but he knew how close all of the people from Rick's original group were to each other. Carol would be devastated by the news.

"I ain't gonna tell her." Daryl said solemnly, as if he could read Morgan's mind. "Weren't nothing any of us could've done to stop it..." that knowledge had been hard won, but he was finally starting to believe it after spending time at Hilltop with Maggie and Sasha. For all he knew, Negan had targeted Glenn the second he had lunged for his wife because he wanted to add Maggie to his harem.

The idea of Carol going anywhere near that fucking asshole son of a bitch prick psychopath was all his worst nightmares come to life.

"But she'll feel guilty because she wasn't there to try..." Morgan nodded. "Even if she doesn't want to..."

"All she's ever done is try to save the people she cares about; I get that she's tired of the killing—fuck we _all_ are—but she didn't do wrong by it, _ever,_ she saved us." Daryl said, going nose to nose with Morgan, "You can shove your all life is precious bullshit sideways— _some life_ is _more_ _precious_ than _others_."

"Like hers..." Morgan said quietly, surprising Daryl by agreeing and looking him right in the eyes.

"I just need to know she's okay... that she's doin' okay... that she's ..." Daryl murmured, unsure now.

If she was... _with_ Ezekiel, he didn't want to get in the way. He'd swallowed his confusing feelings when he'd learned she'd taken up with Tobin, knowing he had no right to object. He wanted her to be happy and if she'd found someone that could do that for her, who could give her things he had never been able to for whatever fucked up reason...

"She says she doesn't want to see you..." Morgan repeated, intruding on Daryl's thoughts.

Another brief look of pain passed over Daryl's face and then he looked down at his feet and swallowed hard, nodding stoically, wiping the back of his hand across his lips, knowing he'd lost her before he'd ever really decided what the hell to do about how she made him feel. He'd shoved it aside for so long, unable to process those feelings that she'd moved on...

"But we both know how good a liar she can be." Morgan's mouth turned up at one corner when Daryl's head bobbed up like a puppet on a string, frowning in disbelief, his feet shifting back and forth.

"Take this road about a mile north of town. Yellow house beside a cemetery with an iron fence all around it." Morgan instructed, pointing his staff in the right direction. Daryl still looked unsettled and unsure, but shouldered his pack and started down the road Morgan had indicated.

"And Daryl?" Morgan called after him, "You never saw me."

* * *

The big one—Jerry?—was standing at the iron gate of the house Morgan had described. A horse was gazing in the yard, nature's lawnmower, and there was also a fairly freshly dug grave, the earth still loose and disturbed over it, with no grass yet growing. Did that mean she was living _in_ a graveyard? He grunted to himself with dark humor. The whole world was just one big graveyard now.

"Greetings friend Daryl!" Jerry smiled, though he didn't move. "Have you come to pay a call on fair Lady Carol?"

"How does he _make_ you spout all that bullshit?" Daryl drawled, "Or did all you all just decide for some reason to humor his really bad Renaissance Fair asshole delusion?"

"Dude's got a tiger." Jerry grinned conspiratorially, not really answering.

Daryl sighed and nodded in agreement.

"Do you wish to pass?"

"That allowed?" Daryl asked, carefully eying the sword and pistol Jerry carried over his armor.

"You're the dude who escaped from Sanctuary. Not sure I could stop you." Jerry said very seriously.

The fact that he was armed, about a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than Daryl made the statement almost laughable.

The suddenly raised voices coming from the direction of the house caught both men's attention.

"Can I not pay the fair damsel Carol a social call without having an ulterior motive?' Ezekiel asked, his voice rising, affecting offense, his free hand spreading over his chest.

Carol's eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips before answering.

"No." she said firmly, matching his raised volume, "And if you don't think I understand your motives by now, you don't _know_ _me at all_!"

" _Yeah, but I do."_ Daryl said, his mouth an angry horizontal slash, striding towards the house with firm purpose, his storm cloud blue eyes colliding with Carol's.

* * *

 _Dun dun dun!_

 _It's happening, people!_

 _Thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed & reviewed. I'm sorry I can't do individual replies right now, I'm heading into Finals week at University and writing is my reward for getting a set of papers graded & that's all I really have time to do. I'll get back to you as soon as I can. DD1_


	10. Chapter 10: Over my Head

Caryl reunion begins. Daryl's POV first.

* * *

Over my Head

 _And suddenly I become a part of your past  
I'm becoming the part that don't last  
I'm losing you and it's effortless  
Without a sound we lose sight of the ground  
In the throw around  
Never thought that you wanted to bring it down  
I won't let it go down till we torch it ourselves_

 _And everyone knows I'm in_  
 _Over my head_  
 _Over my head_  
 _With eight seconds left in overtime_  
 _She's on your mind_  
 _She's on your mind_

\- The Fray

* * *

 _Daryl felt warm. For the first time in a long time he felt warm and safe and whole._

The angry sound of his gravel rough voice had still hung in the air when he brushed past the King and gathered Carol in his arms, cradling the back of her head with one gentle hand and just holding on.

Of their own volition her arms wound around him as well, knuckle white fingers tightly gripping the black denim jacket he was wearing, left leg coming off the ground as he lifted her up to settle her even closer against him with a slight grunt.

How long they stayed like that he wasn't sure, but when he finally released her he realized that they were alone.

"They left... _he_ left?" Daryl said, sounding unsure, frowning shyly at her and then looking down at the big bowl of fruit left on her stoop, evidence of the King's visit, and then back up at her.

Nodding at him, her eyes never leaving his face, she reached back and pushed open the door behind her so she could back through it.

Still frowning, Daryl looked down at the fruit again. Ripe golden peaches, shiny red crisp apples, yellow- green speckled pears and atop it all a huge pomegranate in full blush.

"You want me to...?" he began, reaching for it, intending to scoop up the bowl and carry it inside for her.

"No." she said and disappeared into the house, still holding him with her gaze, drawing him in until he could do nothing else but follow her, closing the door behind him.

Daryl stopped after he crossed the threshold and surveyed the place. The house was small and looked like who ever had lived there had gotten stuck in the country cute decorating phase of the 1980s and never left. A brick enclosed fireplace blazed along the side wall opposite a slouching floral sofa in front of a wood paneled one. Several books, a tea pot and a mug sat on a doily covered coffee table in front of it.

She'd covered the window in the front door with a loosely hanging curtain or sheet with lace trim, which made him scowl. It should've been boarded up along with the windows as a precaution. Her fence might keep most walkers out, but it was scalable by human intruders. He was glad to see she still had enough sense to wear her trench knife at her hip and that there was a rifle leaning against the wall near the door, but he hated the idea of her living out here away from everyone else...

Of course that's what she'd been after since the Prison, wasn't it? What she'd told him in Atlanta: _I just had to be somewhere else._

"Wait—I'll be right back..." Carol murmured and disappeared into a room to the right and through the open door he saw a neatly made four poster bed covered with a crazy quilt and felt his eye twitch into a wince.

Seeing where she slept made him feel twitchy all over. Embarrassed, he paced over to the fireplace and picked up a poker, repositioning the logs that were already half consumed and adding another to the flames from those stacked next to it. As they tried to catch, she returned to the room holding something in her arms. Leaning the poker against the side of the hearth he turned back to her, tilting his head in curiosity.

Carol held out the folded vest that she had labored over to return it to as close to its original state as she could. He saw that she'd even sewn down some of the previously loose cloth feathers on the back, or maybe even replaced them since the cloth seemed almost white again. Her hand on top of the vest was flat, palm down, her thumb lightly tracing the edge of one feather.

" _How?"_ He marveled, not taking it from her yet. Truth be told he'd mourned the vest more than the bike. It was the last piece of Merle he'd had in a world where nobody got to hold onto anything. It had been with him since he'd left the quarry... just like her...

Carol's mouth curled around the edges in a secret smile and continued to hold it out to him, her eyes smiling even more than her lips.

"I know how much... what it means." She said quietly and then took a deep breath and sighed.

Daryl nodded once and finally accepted it from her. Checking the sides he saw she had let it out again after that skinny bastard Dwight had tightened it to fit his bony frame. He unfolded it and let his hands linger over the care worn butter soft dark leather before pulling it on over his dark denim jacket, something that Sasha had given him before they left Hilltop along with the faded blue t-shirt, one of Abraham's that had been in the RV. The pants he wore came from Maggie, Glenn's, found in his back pack. He'd teared up when the woman had presented him with the gifts, touched beyond the telling; wearing their love.

Carol smiled more broadly and reached up to straighten the vest at the lapels, looking at his chest, not his face, so she was surprised when he leaned in and placed a kiss on her forehead and murmured a soft thank you. She froze as he let his chin rest against her brow for a few more moments, touching her nowhere else and then stepped back, a high blush riding his cheekbones.

"Looks good on you." Carol said, blinking rapidly, her voice catching as her hand half rose to touch the vest over his chest again, but stopped before it reached him and instead gave him a brittle smile as she dropped it to her side, "Always did."

"Dwight made it here then?" Daryl guessed, knowing that would be how his vest had ended up in Kingdom, but still unsure how Carol had ended up with it.

Carol shook her head yes but didn't elaborate further.

Daryl nodded back and shifted his feet, unsure of what to do or say next.

"Can I get you anything? Tea? Water?" then she chuckled to herself, adding wryly, "Fruit? I have lots and lots of fruit."

"Saw that." Daryl said, his eyes sliding to the front door where Ezekiel's offering still sat.

"Some people have a hard time believing me when I say I just want to be left alone." Carol sighed.

Daryl frowned and then looked guilty and sad and angry all at once, and then he looked at the floor and started backing towards the door.

"Guess I'll be getting' back then—just wanted to make sure you were—" and then he flinched when he felt her hand on his forearm.

" _Daryl."_ she said quietly, giving his arm a slight squeeze so he would look up at her.

The fearful hope in his eyes brought tears to hers.

" _I didn't mean you."_ she whispered, slowly but inexorably pulling him in for another embrace, as if she couldn't help herself from wanting to touch him.

This time he felt her hands slip under his jacket and vest to smooth around his sides to rest on his back as if she is drawing on his warmth like moving closer to the hearth. For his part as he enclosed her in his arms he is struck by how fragile she feels, as if she had bird bones, hollow and easy to break, though he knows _she_ is neither.

"You _left_. Said not to come after you." he growled into her ear, and the statement comes out as half accusation/half fearful that she'll just up and disappear on him again.

Carol sighed and turned her head sideways to rest on his chest.

"Didn't do much good, did it?" she murmured, "First Morgan and Rick, now you."

"Ricks here too... And Jesus; Rovia?... from Hilltop?" he told her, unsure if she'd remember the name since she never met him.

" _Not_ looking for me, then."

"Not _just_." Daryl admitted, "Come to convince Kingdom to go against Negan."

"Richard will approve." Carol said dryly.

Daryl pulled back far enough to see her face and frowned down at her. His movements made her look up at him.

"Have you met him? Ezekiel's second in command?" Carol asked, and her hands lowered to his waist, keeping a firm but gentle connection between them even as she also leaned back, raising her eyes to his.

 _Shit, they were so big and blue... and her hands were so warm..._

Daryl shivered, felt his heart rate speed up—what the fuck was she doing to him?

"What?" she asked, acting puzzled by the odd expression on his face, as if she cuddled up to him like this every day, putting her hands on him? She knew he didn't like to be touched, always gave him his space, even when he didn't necessarily want her to. He felt her fingers tighten on the thin cotton of his t-shirt as she canted her head to the side in a silent question.

Daryl forced himself to concentrate on what she had asked, not what she was making him feel with her hands on him even so innocently.

"My _fist_ met his _face._ " he rumbled a bit sarcastically. _Yeah, that felt better, retreat behind your anger..._

Huffing out an exasperated sigh Carol looked down and then took hold of his right hand and pulled it up so she could examine it.

Daryl grimaced, partly because his bruised and scraped knuckles did feel sore from the action of cracking into the prick's jaw, but also because she'd taken her hands off of his waist to deal with his injury.

"Come with me." Carol ordered him and taking his hand, started leading him towards the bedroom door.

Daryl pulled up short, a look of confusion on his face.

"I have some medical supplies in the bathroom." she explained.

"I'll wait here." Daryl said, pulling his hand from hers and backing up a couple of steps. He looked over at the fireplace and gestured at the low flames. "Need to work on the fire—looks like it's fixin' to go out."

Carol frowned at him and then looked at the open door, seeing the bed and realizing that must be what was making him balk. She suppressed an amused knowing smile, shaking her head a little, used to dealing with his shyness and then nodded.

"You didn't ask why I hit him." Daryl said, just as she started to go through the bedroom door.

"You always have a reason for everything you do... or don't..." Carol said, pausing and turning back to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

At her very direct and knowing stare Daryl's cheeks went hot realizing she knew exactly why he was staying put.

"I'll just be a minute." Carol said and went into the bedroom.

" _Shit."_ Daryl ran his hand back through his shaggy mop of hair as he watched her. The skin tight jeans she wore showed off her trim figure and he found himself wishing she wasn't wearing the man's oversize open chambray button down over her Henley. He always noticed what she wore. He'd realized a long time ago that she was a chameleon; after she'd come into her own at the Prison she'd literally shed the ugly ill fitting clothes in tans and browns that she'd become accustomed to during her marriage for body hugging rich jewel tones: blues and purples and her favorite red.

Seeing what she wore in Alexandria had made him uneasy—it wasn't her, the woman she had become—and represented everything that had gone wrong between them there. She'd lost who she was, some of it on purpose for her ruse, but some of it because she'd needed to, to spackle over the holes in her soul.

Moving to the fireplace he pulled out the too large log he'd put on it earlier, which had inadvertently acted as smothering agent. He slowly added some kindling to the embers and watched it flare back to life, careful not to add another log until it caught more fully and the flames rose higher. He was just adding a small split log when he felt her behind him.

"Daryl." she said quietly as if she didn't want to spook him, then she put her hand, palm down, on his shoulder.

Daryl turned towards her and saw she was holding a brown bottle and tube of something in her free hand and had a small hand towel draped over her arm like a high class waiter.

"Sit." Carol ordered, giving him a little nudge towards the couch with the hand on his shoulder and then dropping it to his elbow to guide him as if she worried he wouldn't find his way across the six or so feet of the living room.

Daryl realized that she was having the same compulsion to touch him as he had to touch her; a need to make sure that this wasn't a dream; that the other person _was_ really there.

He let her guide him to the ugly sofa and sat down, sinking into its soft over sprung almost spongy cushions; _too_ soft for someone used to sleeping on concrete for the last month.

Carol sat down beside him, setting the peroxide and ointment on the table. She looked him over, very slowly lifting her right hand towards his face.

Daryl held still, his jaw visibly flexing as he forced himself not to shy backwards like an abused pup.

"You didn't get all these bruises today." she said, pushing his bangs back off his forehead and tucking them behind his ears one at a time. Her hand cupped his jaw, feeling so warm and right against his face that he closed his eyes to keep her from seeing what she was doing to him with her simple touches.

"What happened to you, Daryl?" she frowned at him, her tone pensive.

"Had a run in with some Saviors." Daryl told her, deciding that was after all the truth, if not the whole of it. He opened his eyes and leaned into her hand a little before bringing his hand up to hold hers in place, "Heard you did too."

"Morgan has a big mouth." Carol's eyes narrowed and her lips curled like she'd bitten into a lemon.

"Morgan's here?" Daryl asked guilessly and Carol grunted at him.

"You used to be a better liar." she chided him.

"You'd know." Daryl bit back before he could stop himself.

Instead of pulling back as he'd expected to the implied censure, Carol leaned closer until her lips were less than an inch from his.

"I'm sorry, Daryl." she breathed, sounding regretful.

And then she kissed him. Just the barest touch of her lips to his, quick and whisper soft and then she turned her hand from under his to grasp it, pulling it down to about belly button level.

"Keep your hand there." she said when she released it and then turned to pick up the bottle of peroxide.

Daryl did what she told him to; it was easier than trying to deal with what had just happened, but his hand was shaking slightly.

Carol held the towel up to the top of the open bottle and upended it to let the liquid soak in. Returning the bottle to the table she took his hand in hers and began cleaning the blood off of his scraped knuckles.

"I never wanted to lie to you." Carol said.

Daryl concentrated his gaze on her work. The fizzing sensation as the peroxide bubbled on his broken skin matched the frission he still felt, starting with his lips and running all the way to his chest, out of which his heart was doing its best to burst.

"But you see too much..." she continued. "You know me... better than anyone..."

Carol finished cleaning the scrapes and released his hand. Daryl kept his hand in the same position while she put down the towel and picked up the tube of antibiotic cream to use next, but when she reached for his hand again he captured hers and held it.

"I seen you hurtin'... after Terminus." he said in that gentle voice he used only for her.

Carol didn't deny it.

"Followed you; that night at the church, back to the car we found." he sighed, "Knew you was gonna bolt _... leave_ me..." he remembered how helpless he'd felt when he'd seen her slip out and how he'd rushed after her.

During the time they'd spent alone together in Atlanta she'd started to open up to him, arguing with him instead of giving him long silences. In the moments after Noah had told them Beth was alive until Carol had been struck down by that car he'd had hope of reaching her...

Carol's eyes filled with sadness and she had to look away. She knew she had hurt him, Daryl could see it on her face.

"Got you back." he gave her a small lost smile, "But then... after we got to Alexandria? Felt you start to slip away again... then you was _pushin'_ me away..."

She'd distanced herself by moving out of the house they'd all been sharing, first living alone and then, after she and Maggie had been held by the Saviors; with _Tobin._

"I did what I had to do." she said quietly.

" _Look at me."_ he ordered, quietly urgent, squeezing her hand, waiting until she did so to continue, "When are you gonna stop punishin' yourself for... for _livin_ '?"

"That's not true—that's not what-"

Daryl's hands went to her upper arms and held on, giving her a gentle shake.

"It _is_. I feel it too. Every day. Every _life_ I couldn't save." There were so many. If only he'd been faster, smarter, stronger. He'd failed time and again, coming up short and people had died because of it.

"What about every life I _took_?" she whispered miserably.

"You did what you had to." he tried to assure her, "All the way back to the Prison. They were sick, gonna die and maybe kill us all in the process. Terminus n' the Wolves? They were bad people, real evil walkin'; out to kill us all. And them Saviors? You saved Maggie and the baby; you saved _yourself_... so you got _to forgive_ yourself."

Carol shook her head back and forth.

"You did what you had to." he repeated, rubbing his hands up and down her upper arms soothingly.

"I can't... I can't... I can't do it anymore..." the tears slipped from her eyes and ran down her cheeks in a hopeless silent weeping that broke his heart. Embarrassed, she tried to pull away but Daryl used his grip on her arms to hold her still.

"You don't have to. You don't have to always be the strong one." Daryl told her, "Let me help you... I want to help you _...whatever you need; please_?"

"You don't know... you wouldn't say that if you knew..." she turned her face away, "What I did..."

"Don't need to know. I know _you..._ I know how you care. Know you'd never hurt anyone for no reason. Know whatever happened it's been tearin' you up inside so you gotta find a way to let it go."

"Did _you_?" she rounded on him. She'd seen him in the days after they'd lost Beth, watched over him as he sank into despair just like he had after Sophia.

"You told me I had to feel it. You were right. You been there for me—even when..." he stopped himself. Now wasn't the time to tell her he'd had loving visions of her that had helped him endure Negan's torture and his guilt over Glenn. "Just... let me be _here_ for you... _now_."

The look on her face was one of longing, wanting to give in to what he was offering. When he'd come to her door today she'd started out trying to take care of him, but now that he'd reversed the situation she was hesitant. She was good at giving love, but had never really learned how to take the gift of its return without worrying it would be cruelly snatched away from her.

" _Carol?"_ Daryl asked, his voice and expression so gentle and caring that it earned a fresh bout of tears from her. His expression morphed into concern and guilt, figuring he was somehow hurting her more, that he wasn't at all what she needed or wanted, "Ah fuck, please... don't... I'm sorry... so stupid..." and he released her arms so he could flee, stop hurting her...

Carol launched herself at him, almost knocking him backwards onto the couch, her arms around his neck, burying her face in the space there between it and his shoulder, practically crawling onto his lap, still crying, and the heat of her tears soaked into his collar.

Daryl felt like he was in over his head, wanting nothing more than to just stay here like this with her for as long as she'd let him. He allowed his hands to sweep up and hold her close, rubbing soothingly up and down her spine, feeling her give in to the great heaving sobs of true despair instead of the controlled silence she'd wept with earlier. He held her until she was too exhausted to do more than sniff delicately and whimper, shifting her so she was sitting side ways on his lap and cradling her head to his chest.

* * *

The next thing he knew he opened his eyes to darkness. Night had fallen and the fire had gone out, but he was warm. For the first time in a long time he felt warm and safe and whole. He was mostly sitting upright on the squishy soft sofa and Carol was still curled against him, asleep, wisps of her hair ticking his chin, with one hand gripping his jacket and the other his t-shirt. His left arm was propped up by a pillow, easing the strain on his sore shoulder, but his right hand was resting rather possessively on her backside.

Daryl's cheeks flamed at the intimacy of their positions and he tensed and tried to ease his right hand away, but at the slight movements she made a tiny involuntary noise of protest and snuggled closer.

His traitorous dick chose that moment to realize he had a beautiful woman on his lap.

The warmth of her even breaths against his collar bone told him she was still asleep, but he knew he should follow his instinct to flee before she realized that he'd gotten hard from just holding her; when all she'd wanted from him was comfort and understanding... if she'd wanted more she'd have come to _him_ in Alexandria, not some random...

Her lips pressed to his neck made him shiver.

Carol made a pleased sound and kissed his neck again, more lingeringly this time. The hand holding onto his t-shirt opened over his chest and began a slow lazy circle over his pectoral, rubbing over the nipple, already erect in the cold room and drawing a low groan from him, his brain misfiring.

 _Fire gone out? She was burning him alive..._

She kissed her way up the strong column of his throat, closing her teeth over the flesh and then soothing the nip with another kiss to the same place.

 _Over his head? He was drowning in her..._

The hell of it? He wasn't sure she was actually awake.

* * *

 _To be continued..._

 _Thank you for all the lovely reads & reviews! So happy people are enjoying this one. The show has not given us much to be interested in this season as we go into the mid-season finale..._


	11. Chapter 11:Love and Trust

The Caryl reunion in the creepy house continues. Carol's POV.

* * *

 _Love and Trust_

 _The simplest things can be the hardest to do  
Can't find what you're looking for even when it's looking for you  
The judge and the criminal, the sinner and the priest  
Got something in common, bring 'em all to their knees_

Do what you can, do what you must  
Everybody's trying to find some love and trust  
I walk the line, I walk it for us  
See me out here tryin' to find some love and trust

Lust ain't an offender, but stealing from a thief  
Storm after storm leave you shaking like a leaf  
They say broken hearts make the world go around  
Trading headaches for heartaches, wanna get you down

 _Give it some time, don't try to rush  
When you're trying to find yourself some love and trust  
Do what you can, might not be enough  
When you're trying to find yourself some love and trust_

 _Like a horse in a race who don't want to run  
Like an executioner who won't fire his gun  
Like a boxer who won't take a swing  
Just like a prince who don't want to be king_

 _Haven't we suffered, suffered enough  
Now we're out here tryin' to find some love and trust  
Do what you can, do what you must  
Everybody's trying to find some love and trust  
Everybody's trying to find some love and trust  
_\- Mavis Staples

* * *

She hadn't planned on Daryl Dixon.

They say if you're lucky at least once in your life you can find someone who "gets" you; someone who you can love and trust; someone who understands and accepts all your flaws, weaknesses and sins and loves and trusts _you_ anyhow, in spite of them... or maybe even _because_ of them; because they have flaws, weaknesses and sins of their own to match.

Carol had always thought that was what was at the root of her unlikely friendship with Daryl: damaged people gravitate to damaged people. Of all the people she'd met since the Turn he was the most like her, abused and beaten down before and a phoenix rising after.

She'd trusted him almost as soon as she'd met him. The day he and Merle had arrived at the quarry he'd gone out on a hunt to bring back a deer that had fed the whole camp, but had refused the thanks and appreciation everyone tried to heap on him, instead swearing a blue streak and storming off to hang and butcher the doe when he found out no one else had the least clue about how to do it.

Somewhere along the way he began seeking out her company instead of just hovering protectively in the background as he'd done after Ed had died. When he'd looked for Sophia, when he'd brought her the white rose, when he'd held her back from rushing head long into disaster and sat with her after...

After that they'd kept saving each other's lives, sometimes literally, growing closer with each passing month. She worried about him not coming back every time he left to go on even a short run and they'd had their longer times apart—when he'd left with Merle and later Michonne to hunt Blake—but he'd always come home afterwards, back to her.

Letting go of all of them, to leave when Rick had sent her away, had been one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do, but part of her felt that she deserved it. She'd killed two of their own to save the rest. If never seeing her family again was the penance, she accepted it as her due for making the hard decision. When she had to do it again, to save Judith, she knew what she had to do. She didn't deserve to be with her family when she'd killed another one of them, a _child_ this time.

But fate had worked against her one more time, forcing her to kill again to save her family from Terminus.

 _What are you going to do, Carol?_

 _I'm going to kill people._

She'd stayed with them after that, Tyreese's forgiveness serving as a buffer, letting herself hope things could be different, letting Daryl back in, just a little, before realizing he wanted too much from her, to start over, when she was already damned. She wouldn't drag him down to hell with her.

But he was as hard to shake as a burr in lamb's wool. No matter what she did, he forgave her. No matter what she said or didn't say, he still believed in her.

She was already teetering close to edge of a breakdown, though she didn't know that's what it was. She just felt buried deeper and deeper under the weight of everything, the responsibility to keep on living so she could try to save people growing heavier every day. From the outside she seemed like the consummate bad ass, playing undercover agent, blending in with the people of Alexandria and defending them against attack.

 _We don't have to kill, Carol._

 _Of course we do._

Morgan made her furious with his dangerous platitudes and unwillingness to do what she knew had to be done, even at the cost of her own soul. Yet every death from her hands piled on and pushed her deeper into the pit, her despair growing daily.

She couldn't let herself feel it and so sought the things that she knew would numb her to the pain. Cigarettes fit the bill: Ed had smoked and she'd hated it, the stench in the furniture, her hair and clothes and the second hand smoke worrying her for Sophia's sake. Now she inhaled the coffin nails gladly, hoping they would also lessen the time she'd have to wait to see her daughter again.

Unwilling to just swallow a bullet she cast about for other passive-aggressive ways to self-destruct. Feeling safe in the bosom of her family? That meant she had to cut ties, to distance herself from anyone who knew her too well.

Longing for her lost closeness to the one very complex man who'd always understood her best, but never seemed to see her as a desirable woman? Fill the emptiness with exploring her abilities at seduction with a simple man; to have sex without complications with one who wasn't afraid of his attraction to her.

But even then she was hurting someone. She knew Tobin cared about her when all she was doing was marking time.

Then Daryl was there again, pushing past her carefully erected barriers to embrace her even after she'd killed again, this time to save Maggie and her unborn child. She'd tried to stay away, but when he came through the gates with the body of another friend, she couldn't just stand by and watch him hurting.

His determination to find and kill the man from the burnt out forest who'd killed Denise had been the proverbial straw. It broke her to think of him going off on some murderous quest, heading down the same dark path she'd pulled him away from after he'd killed the woman at Grady. She didn't have the strength to stop him, couldn't find the right words to comfort him over the distance she'd put between them.

She had to get out, leave as she'd always intended to. She couldn't stand by and watch it all fall apart and she couldn't kill any more to stop it. She knew her chances of survival outside the walls weren't good, but at least she'd only be responsible for her own life, no one else's. She'd prepared her escape carefully, hoarding supplies, preparing her stealth defense system by sewing the guns into the oversize coat she'd purloined from the man in whose bed she was sleeping.

Of course Morgan had interfered. He must've been placed on the earth to plague her. After he saved her they came here, to Kingdom, a place where she was being given time to heal before she could be on her way again.

Because that's what she had planned; this was only a convenient way station. She'd live in isolation; she wouldn't get to know any of these people. Morgan would return to Alexandria and tell them all that she was dead and she'd be on the road until the inevitable.

She hadn't planned on Daryl Dixon.

In retrospect she should've known, should've remembered how tenaciously he'd searched for her child, never giving up. The irony this time was that he hadn't even been specifically looking for her. Trying to gather forces to fight the newest big bad had brought him to her.

When she took the vest from Dwight and restored it, she'd justified the effort by telling herself that she'd send it back with Morgan. It would be one last token of... of how much she _cared_. She wouldn't have to see him again, but he would know.

When Daryl had shown up on her doorstep all thoughts of sending him away had vanished in an instant. He was different somehow—still shy, but working hard to push past that and be more open as well, like he had been after Terminus. He told her he wanted to help her, but she feared she was beyond even his care.

He kept at it though, pushing and prodding until he found an opening.

" _Let me be here for you, now. Whatever you need."_

What did she need? To forget, to go numb again, just take the comfort she knew he would try to give her. She tried to hold out, not to take what he was offering in his awkward way, but she needed it... needed _him_ too much. She let the tears come, her emotions so close to the surface her skin felt burned from the inside. Exhausted, she had fallen asleep in his strong arms.

When she awoke she was overwhelmed by his closeness, the heated masculine scent of him filling her lungs with each intake of breath, the salty tang of his skin when she pressed her lips to his throat, making him shiver.

He didn't stop her, he didn't run; could he have really had changed so much? He'd had examples all around him, Glenn and Maggie, Aaron and Eric, Rick and Michonne, Tara and Denise... _no... don't think about it... Tara's grief was one more thing she couldn't let herself feel..._

Instead she made a little pleased sound and found the strength of his muscular chest under her palm, the nipple as erect as another larger part of him she could feel under her hip...

He groaned at her touch and then she closed her teeth over the cords of his neck...

" _Carol?"_ he breathed, probably trying to ascertain if she knew what she was doing.

She ignored him and kept kissing his neck, alternately sucking and lightly biting as well.

" _Wait_... it's _me,_ Daryl..." he whispered the words to _stop_ her without actually saying the word, though his voice sounded throaty and hungry.

Carol realized he thought she didn't know _who_ she was doing. In response she sat up and then very carefully moved so that she was straddling his hips, her knees to either side of them, her hands on his chest, looking down on him, her eyes bright and hot.

His expression as he looked up at her was pure naked desire, quickly masked behind a sort of befuddled shy surprise.

" _Carol...?"_

She rolled her hips up and back, just once.

His mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back, but then he gently put both hands on her hips to stop her.

Carol held still, waiting for whatever he would do next. She had offered and now it was his choice.

Daryl opened his eyes and looked up at her, his head tilting to the side as he regarded her, one side of his lips quirked up almost imperceptively, his eyes hot and narrow. His hands urged her closer and then slid up to her waist. She leaned in until she was close enough for him to cup her face and brush a light kiss to her forehead. Then he waited, his lips against her brow, as if he was gathering his courage or maybe giving her time to change her mind.

Carol stayed perfectly still, waiting for him to act, her heart racing in anticipation.

The kiss, when it came, was so gentle that it was as if he was afraid of breaking her, but it was also full of restrained passion, delicate and heated at the same time. His lips were chapped but tender, his scruff scraping against her chin and cheek.

Daryl broke the kiss to take a breath and she gave a whimper of protest and then he took her mouth again, this time letting some of the passion loose, his right hand moving back to cradle her head, keeping her close even as her hands gripped at the front of his vest to do the same.

She hadn't really guessed he could kiss like this... and her surprise grew as his mouth slanted across hers and his tongue sought entrance and she opened to him, reveling in his possession. Maybe it was because she'd thought it could never happen that it was so...well, so amazingly _hot._

 _She hadn't planned on Daryl Dixon..._

Just when she thought she was going to burst into flames he broke the kiss again, his chest heaving.

"Can we... can we slow down a little?" Daryl murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, trying to get his breathing under control.

"Too much?" she asked, though truth be told, she was just as overwhelmed.

"Should at least make you buy me dinner first..." he drawled with a little raw chuckle, while exploring her jaw line and ear with his lips, using one of Hershel's favorite expressions for when someone wanted some outlandishly pricey favor, again surprising her with his light humor.

"I could cook you dinner tonight." Carol agreed, sighing and turning her head to the side to give him more of her long neck to explore.

Daryl made it all the way to her collar bone at the neckline of her Henley before he forced himself to stop. He groaned a little when he looked down and saw curve of her breasts in the deep vee of her shirt and the way her nipples stood at attention as if begging for him to continue on down...

He abruptly sat up and gave her a rueful smile, his eyes falling to linger on her chest before rising to meet her eyes which were full of desire and mischief.

"Don't want _jus'_ one night with you." Daryl said, his hair falling back in his face as he bowed his head in shyness at what that implied; at the _future_ that implied.

At the sweet honesty of that statement Carol lifted her right hand to cup his cheek, her head tilting to the side in an adoring look.

"But the way things are goin' I might not make it back... any time soon." he tacked on the last after realizing that it sounded like he was trying to talk her into something.

Carols mouth turned down, her thumb tracing a pattern over his chin and kiss swollen lips.

"I can't stay here in the Kingdom." he sighed. "Rick n' them, they need me."

They were at a turning point in the marshalling of forces to go against Negan. Even if she chose not to participate, she knew it was happening.

"You know I can't leave." she sighed back.

Daryl dipped his head in a nod of acknowledgement and understanding. As much as he wanted her with them; with _him_ , he wasn't going to push the issue. She was here because she needed to heal and she wasn't done.

"Can you stay tonight... for dinner... and to light my fire...?" she asked him, raising her forearms to rest them on his broad shoulders and linking her fingers together behind his neck, smiling at his frown at the innuendo and nodding her head towards the opposite wall. "Fireplace went out while we were napping."

"Dixons don't _nap_." Daryl snorted right back. "We are alert n' ready at all times."

" _Some_ parts of you..." Carol said wickedly, and enjoyed the rise of the blush along his neck. "...do seem to be _quite_ alert and ready."

Daryl stood and brought her along with him so she remained flush against his body.

"You didn't say _stop._ " she reminded him about his usual reply to her flirting.

"Don't wanna... but we _should_." he growled, hauling her up even closer before setting her away from him.

"Oh?" Carol breathed, swaying back towards him a little, unsteady on her feet, still caught up in the heady feeling of finally having him over the wall that kept them from becoming... something _more_...

Daryl reached out, but she regained her balance on her own and he dropped his hands to his sides and they curled into fists.

"What?" Carol asked when she realized he had an intense look of worry on his face.

"I ain't... steppin' on anyone's toes here?" he asked, his hair hiding half his face again.

She understood immediately what Daryl needed to know.

" _No."_ she told him quickly. And knew now with certainty that there never would be anything more than friendship between her and the King.

"And back in Alexandria?" he had to ask. It wasn't like she'd tried to hide the fact that she'd been living with Tobin.

"I ended it... when I left..." Carol told him. "It was... it wasn't..." then it was her turn to frown. Was he asking this because he had something he needed to tell _her_?

"You? Is there... someone? Back in..." she had to ask. She knew he'd gotten closer to the people in their group since they'd been on the road together. Maybe now that Sasha was with Abraham, Daryl had realized how beautiful and brave Rosita was... or he'd met someone at Hilltop or—

"Nah..." Daryl shook his head a little and shrugged self-deprecatingly, "Always only ever been you."

"Always only ever?" she said and gave him a pleased small smile.

Daryl gave her a bashful grin in return.

"You gotta know that." he told her, giving her such a look full of love and trust that Carol started to tear up again, making him frown, _"Ah sweetheart, don't..."_

"I wish I could be what you need me to be..." Carol said quietly, looking away. There was still so much he didn't know; it would never just be simple with her, she had too many secrets, too many self-imposed sins—

"Hey— _don't_. Don't need you t'be anything but what you are." he said with soft earnestness, "Just hope you'll let me come back here maybe." he said, reaffirming his intention to return to her when he could.

"Any time." she told him, nodding, moving closer, and then as natural as breathing they were kissing again, his hands cupping her face, her hands gripping his vest.

The rightness of it, the ease after so long holding themselves back from even the possibility that this could happen for them made it all the sweeter.

"Somebody said somethin' about supper?" Daryl asked, trying to even out his breathing, resting his forehead on hers.

"Thought we had a deal—you light my fire, I cook?" she said, a bit breathless as well.

"I'll light yer fire..." he nodded and then paused.

When she leaned back to look up at him, he gave her an incongruously shy-smug grin that made Carol's knees go weak.

 _No, she really hadn't planned on Daryl Dixon._

* * *

To be continued...

I'm on the road heading to visit family for the Holidays for the next few days, so I'll update as soon as I can. Safe travels everyone!


End file.
